Hammer and Nail
by acidtowns
Summary: Midorima found Takao in the rain and offered him an umbrella. In Midorima's eyes, it was an act of pity. In Takao's eyes, it was another chance to live. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Hammer and Nail  
**Warning:** n/a  
**Disclaimer:** when Akashi loses  
**Author's Notes:** ok so i basically pulled this out of my ass today because i wanted to publish something on here asjkdhjkasd uhm, this is unbeta'd, so i apologize for any mistakes! reviews are cherished 5EVUR ~ other than that, i hope you enjoy! ; u;

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There were five lucky items in his office. The number had been fifteen, but after the many patients that had dropped by today, the count dwindled down by ten. It wasn't that he minded, though; on days when the lucky item wasn't hazardous to children, he bought out half of the store's stock just so he could give them to his patients. After all, most of them that visited him were sick, and with the lucky item, he could give it to them and say that it was a "charm" that would help them get better. Most parents thought it was cute of him to give away small toys, but he wasn't really a giving person; he actually believed that the lucky item could help the child.

"Here." Reaching over past the mother, he handed a small stuffed bear to the sniffling child. "This is the day's lucky item. Keep it close to you, and you'll feel better in the morning." Once his patient accepted his gift, he peered up at the mother. "Make sure he gets plenty of rest. He should be fine by morning. If not, give us a call."

The mother nodded in response. "Alright. Thank you, Midorima-sensei." After giving him a bow, she placed her hand on her son's shoulder and led him out of the office.

Left alone, Midorima raked his fingers through his green hair and heaved a sigh. He was supposed to be home thirty minutes ago, but he received an emergency call just before he closed the office, and well, he wasn't one to deny a sick child, so he told the panicky mother to bring her son to see him. The visit spanned over twenty minutes, which wasn't long at all. Then again, he wasn't in a rush; no one was waiting for him at home anyway.

Shutting the door to his small office, Midorima glanced around the darkened lobby of the place he worked at. His desk operator, Momoi Satsuki, was long gone, and from the looks of it, the other pediatricians— Kise Ryouta and Kuroko Tetsuya— went home as well. Figuring that there wasn't a point in lingering around an empty building, Midorima made his way toward the exit.

It was raining. Despite the weatherman saying that there was a _forty_ perfect chance of rain today, Midorima brought an umbrella to work this morning, and seeing the weather now, he was glad he made the decision.

Stepping out, he opened his umbrella. Once safe from the droplets of water, Midorima shut the entrance door and locked it. After checking to make sure it was secure, he turned on his heel and began walking home, which was fortunately only two blocks away.

The rain wasn't letting up; if anything, it was coming down stronger. Wanting to be under a roof, he quickened his walk; however, his pace soon faltered when he spotted something black sitting against a wall. At first, he passed it off as nothing but a trash bag, but when he drew closer, he was surprised to find that it was person. The figure was sitting with their knees drawn up and their head buried in their arms, and it was clear that their entire body was trembling from the exposure to rain. Drawing even closer, he saw that it wasn't a man but a child. Originally, he planned to ignore the other and continue home, but seeing that it was a _child_, he couldn't help but do _something_.

Halting in front of the shaking figure, Midorima extended his umbrella over so that it covered the child's head instead of his own. A second later, the person peered up, his eyes blown wide, his mouth parted as if to ask _why_? At that point, Midorima realized that it wasn't a young child, but a grown one. Somewhat embarrassed by his misinterpretation, he wanted nothing more than to turn away and leave, but he knew better than to leave this young man here in the pouring rain.

Midorima cleared his throat and then said, "Take it."

For the first few seconds, the other stared at him, but after a bit, he reached out and took the umbrella, his fingers brushing against the back of Midorima's hand out of gratitude.

"Thank you."

The stranger's voice sounded unsure, and his expression reflected confusion. _Why_ was someone helping him? _Why_ was someone caring? Midorima asked himself these questions as he released his hold on the umbrella. He wanted to say that he helped him because he _thought_ it was a child, and perhaps that was so, but a small part of him argued that he was helping him out because he pitied him. But that couldn't be; he was Midorima Shintarou, and Midorima Shintarou didn't care for anyone except his patients.

Reaching up and adjusting his glasses (which began to fall due to the rain), Midorima turned away and started toward his house. Yet, before his fifth step, the young man called out to him.

"Wait!"

Midorima didn't want to wait, but for some reason, he stopped in his tracks.

"Mister, can I ... can I go home with you?"

He responded to that question in a heartbeat. "No."

With the exception of the rain hitting the ground, silence settled between them. Midorima willed himself to move forward, but his feet were planted in place. His mind was blank; he couldn't think, and by time he could, he heard the pleading voice again.

"Please."

There was a big difference between a parent's plead and this person's plead. In his office, when a parent begged him to help their child, their request was coated with worry. On the other hand, this young man didn't sound worried at all; he sounded desperate.

How long had he been out here, sitting under the rain? When was the last time he ate? _What happened_ to him?

Midorima didn't want to know, because if he found out, he would feel even more sorry for him, and when that happened, he would start caring.

Rain painted both sides of his glasses; what he could see was distorted. He itched to take them off and wipe the water away, but instead of doing that, he turned back to face the stranger. The overgrown child was standing and holding the umbrella up to block out the droplets that fell. His expression was no longer confused but hopeful. That wasn't what Midorima focused on, though. His eyes fell from the figure's face to his thin body. The sight of such was disheartening. _No one_ should look like that, especially not a child (an overgrown child in this case).

"Fine," Midorima said, his tone quipped. "Follow me."

At the sound of that, a smile broke out on the other's face, but it wasn't just any smile; it was a smile of _hope_.

"Hurry up. I'm getting wet."

"Yes, sir!"

Midorima could see the spark of gratitude as the stranger ushered over to put the umbrella over both of their heads.

"The name's Takao. What's yours?"

"Midorima."

Takao's smile widened. "Thank you, Midorima-san!"

And at that moment, Midorima swore he never saw someone as happy as the young man he just rescued.


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning:** n/a  
**Disclaimer:** when Midorima stops being a tsundere  
**Author's Notes:** oh wowowow an update! i actually rewrote this chapter twice before i was satisfied otl ;; anyways, thank you for the favorites / alerts / reviews! they really made my day. q uq aside from that, i hope you enjoy this chapter!

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He felt like he was being watched. It was a peculiar feeling— something that he never experienced before, and yet, he _knew_ the sensation. It was the feeling of paranoia that _someone_, _somewhere_, was going to jump out of the shadows and attack him, but that was a stupid thought. Who would attack him? He hadn't done anything that would give someone a reason to jump him. Then why was he getting this sensation?

It was Takao's fault.

With the kid tailing him to work, Midorima was paranoid that someone was going to call him out on kidnapping— which wasn't the case at all. Takao had begged to stay one more day ("please, please, _please_!"), and Midorima couldn't bring himself to tell him no. Of course, he didn't trust Takao yet, so he told him to leave the house and come back later. At that point, Takao had insisted on tagging along, and even though Midorima said no, he decided to follow him anyway.

From the moment he gave into the other, he began to regret his decision. This kid— it wasn't appropriate to call him a young man anymore, seeing how he acted— was different from what he imagined. Cliché as it was, Midorima imagined Takao as a reserved and thankful person. There were hints of his thankfulness, but he wasn't reserved at all. He was outspoken, spontaneous, and _stupid_.

"Ne, Shin-chan, why are you carrying around a porcelain doll?"

Midorima decided to ignore that question and instead focus on the nickname. Last night, Takao had forgotten his name, and when he told him it was Midorima, Takao asked for his first name. Telling him it was Shintarou was a mistake on his part, since, the second the other heard it, the nickname Shin-chan was born.

"It's Midorima."

"Shin-chan."

"Midorima."

"But Shin-chan has a ring to it! Shin-chan, Shin-chan, _Shin-chan_."

At this point, Midorima realized it was useless to argue back and forth with this stubborn child.

He quickened his pace in hopes that Takao would get the idea and back off, but that wasn't the case. Takao caught up to him, and, once more, asked about the porcelain doll in his hand.

"It's the daily lucky item," Midorima explained with reluctance.

"So it's supposed to give you luck?" Takao tilted his head. "Don't you think that's a little childish, Shin-chan?"

The corner of his mouth twitched out of annoyance as he adjusted his glasses. "It's not childish," he replied, "and it doesn't _give_ luck. It suppresses bad luck."

"But it's a porcelain doll."

"Obviously."

"Do you bring it to work every day?"

Midorima threw him a look. "Of course, not. The _daily_ lucky item changes from day to day."

"It's kinda creepy. You said you're a pediatrician, right? What if it scares the kids?"

"It won't."

The conversation, much to Midorima's relief, ended there when they arrived at the door of his work place, but that didn't cease conversation completely. When he entered, he was greeted by Momoi— who told him that his first appointment was in thirty minutes— and Kuroko, who asked about the person standing beside him. He opened his mouth to answer the question, but Takao beat him to it and told his co-workers that he was Midorima's temporary roommate, which, in turn, sparked a conversation between him and Momoi.

Wanting nothing to do with it, Midorima walked past the chatty duo and made his way toward his office. From there, he placed the porcelain doll on his desk and removed the white lab coat from the hanger. After slipping his arms into the sleeves, adjusting the collar, and smoothing down the wrinkles, he glanced over at his desk. Next to the doll were the five small stuffed bears from yesterday. Though they weren't today's lucky item, he planned to give them away.

"Midorima-kun."

Lifting his head, he peered over at Kuroko, who stood at the door with his usual blank expression. Midorima frowned. It was unusual for Kuroko to bother him— despite growing up together and being co-workers, they didn't get along as well. Kuroko only pestered him when he needed something, and Midorima only spoke to him if it was absolutely necessary. This meant one thing: Kuroko wasn't here for idle chit chat.

"What is it?"

"How long have you known him for?"

The question made Midorima contemplate whether he should tell him or not. He didn't want to appear stupid by saying _yesterday_, but at the same, he didn't want to make up a lie.

"The reason I'm asking is because I'm concerned," Kuroko explained, walking into the room while holding his gaze firm. "I trust that you wouldn't bring someone dangerous into this facility, which means you must know him." He paused in his step. "He's thin."

"I'm aware."

"Are you feeding him?"

Midorima's brow creased at the sound of the accusation. "Of course, I am." When Kuroko didn't appear satisfied with the answer, he continued. "I found him on the streets on the way home. He was supposed to leave this morning, but he insisted on staying another night. I'm not foolish enough to let him stay at my house alone."

"And yet, you're foolish enough to bring him here. There's a possibility that he could harm one of our patients."

This was why he didn't like Kuroko. Ever since they were young, Kuroko had been prone to point out his flaws, and this irritated him because _he_ was the smarter one, and yet, Kuroko— someone who almost failed medical school— always found a way to make _him_ look foolish.

"I'll keep my eye on him."

"That's not good enough."

"Wow, is this Shin-chan's office?" Midorima's eyes flickered over to Takao, who was leaning against the door frame and scanning the room with mild interest. "It's smaller than I thought."

There was a slight alteration in his tone— something that hinted that Takao was around when he and Kuroko were talking. Such thought made Midorima uncomfortable. Even though he was focused on Kuroko, he should've sensed the other's arrival. But he didn't, and from the looks of Kuroko's furrowed eyebrows, he didn't either, which was strange, because the only person that could get away with that was Kuroko himself.

But it was probably nothing; he was engaged in a conversation with his co-worker, after all, so he wasn't exactly paying attention to anything else.

"Please take good care of him." Without giving him another look, Kuroko turned and slipped out of the room.

"He doesn't really have presence, does he?" Takao started as he made his way over to Midorima's office chair to sit down. "I didn't even notice him until he asked about me!" The cheerful tone was back, which only perked Midorima's curiosity more as to whether Takao overheard them or not.

"Were you listening?"

Takao blinked. "Listening to what?"

"The conversation I was having with Kuroko."

Again, Takao blinked. "Oh, I came in just when he said 'that's not good enough.' What were you two talking about?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me!"

"Get out of my chair."

Takao puffed out his cheeks, but nevertheless, got up. "Shin-chan's being mean."

How was that mean? Takao was the one that sat down without permission. Midorima wanted to point that out but decided it was best to avoid starting an argument; he was in his working environment, and here, he was professional.

"Takao."

Takao glanced over his shoulder at him. "Hm?"

"By bringing you here, I'm trusting that you won't do anything stupid. That means don't run around, don't be loud, and don't steal anything."

At the sound of the last part, his guest made a face. "I've never stolen anything but bread before, so you don't have to worry about that. Besides, Momoi-san would catch me if I try to sneak out with something— not that there's anything to sneak out with, anyway."

Choosing to ignore that, Midorima adjusted his glasses. "You don't have to stay here, if you don't want to."

"You're just trying to get rid of me," he huffed.

"There's nothing for you to do here."

Takao tapped his finger against his chin. "I can help Momoi-san with paperwork," he offered. "All you do is tell people to fill stuff out and then get folders for them, right?"

"Those folders contain confidential information. You're not allowed to go anywhere near them, so it's best if you go somewhere else."

"But I don't want to go anywhere," Takao whined. "I like this place."

Midorima sighed. He didn't want to deal with this kid.

**— x — o — x —**

"I like the people you work with," Takao said, folding his hands behind his head and peering up at the orange sky. "Momoi-san said no one really talks to her, so she liked having me around. She said I should come back. You should really talk to her more, Shin-chan— you, Kuroko-sensei, and Kise-sensei. Speaking of Kuroko-sensei— are they really dating? Momoi-san said she was Kuroko-sensei's girl— hey, wait up!"

Maybe if he continued to ignore the other and walk faster, Takao would eventually leave him alone. That, however, wasn't the case. Takao caught up with him easily and proceeded to talk about his day at the office. For the most part, it sounded like Momoi and Kise adored Takao, which shouldn't irritate him, but for some reason, it did. It wasn't that he wanted Momoi and Kise to cling to him, but he wanted their _attention_. He was the doctor here, and Takao was nothing but a homeless kid.

"What are we having for dinner tonight?"

He didn't like Takao's personality. Like Kise, he was upbeat and foolish, but unlike Kise, he had a child's innocence. Without that side, Takao wouldn't be staying another night. But that didn't mean Midorima was going to give in anymore. Tonight was going to be the last night he was going to deal with Takao.

Unlocking the door to his home and sliding it open, Midorima stepped in and turned on the lights. For a moment, his eyes scanned the room to make sure everything was in place. Ever since Kuroko mentioned Takao being potentially dangerous, he had been paranoid that Takao wasn't as innocent as he made him out to be. Of course, he thought about this the previous night— Takao could be a thief, or a killer, or a thief and a killer— but he didn't think much of it then nor was he going to think about it now. Waving the thought off and seeing that nothing had changed from this morning, Midorima toed off his shoes and proceeded inside.

"Can we have stir-fry vegetables again?"

Did he ever learn to be quiet? Even though Midorima didn't respond to any of his questions, Takao continued talking to him as if they were having a conversation.

"We're having the same thing as yesterday," Midorima said as he made his way to the kitchen. "Go take a shower."

"Eh? But I wanna help you cook!"

Midorima threw him a look. "Go take a shower," he repeated.

Takao puffed out his cheeks again, but nonetheless, turned and headed to the bedroom.

Ten minutes later, as Midorima was dicing the tofu for the miso soup, Takao returned smelling like coconut shampoo. He offered to help, but Midorima, like yesterday, told him to sit down and stay put, and like yesterday, Takao did the opposite of that. He, acting as if Midorima didn't say anything, occupied the spot next to the sink and proceeded to wash the green onions. Midorima felt like he should tell him to back off and let _him_ do the cooking, but he didn't mind all that much. Like Takao said the previous day, they would be able to eat faster if both of them contributed to preparing dinner.

Glancing to his right, he saw that Takao was slicing the green onions into small pieces. Figuring that that was going to keep the otherbusy for a minute or two, Midorima moved toward the stove, and though his back was turned, he was wary of the sounds coming from the opposite side of the kitchen— Takao was humming an upbeat tune in contrast to his steady cutting. Hearing it was odd. Whenever Midorima made his meals, the kitchen was always quiet, and even though his company was just humming, it made kitchen seem alive— _inviting_.

The humming somehow transitioned into a song, and now, as they were cutting up the vegetables for stir-fry, Takao was holding a concert. Though this irritated Midorima, he couldn't bring himself to tell the kid to stop. It wasn't that he enjoyed hearing Takao sing— his voice wasn't that great, and there were times in which he went out of tune— but he, as much as he wanted to deny it, liked the noise. After years of living alone, he thought he would've been accustomed to silence by now, but that wasn't so; sure, he had grown to accept silence, but that didn't mean he didn't miss the noise.

He didn't sing along, though, not even when he knew all the lyrics to one song in particular. He hadn't gotten to the point where he wanted to make noise himself— not that he needed to at this moment since Takao was playing that role for him.

Three songs later, they were both seated on opposite ends of the round table with their dinner separating them.

Takao stuffed his mouth full of vegetables and rice before moving onto the miso soup. Midorima, on the other hand, ate in a deliberate manner, half paying attention to the taste in his mouth and half paying attention to his company's vigorous eating. He had never seen someone eat in such a frantic manner. His behavior didn't surprise him, though. After all, Takao was probably not going to get another chance to eat like this again.

"This is really good," Takao complimented with his mouth full. "Can I have seconds?"

Midorima's gaze traveled from Takao's face to his empty bowl. They had started eating a minute ago, and now, he was asking for seconds? He had no manners at all. Nevertheless, Midorima glanced down at his own half-filled bowl and replied, "Go ahead."

Takao leapt up from his seat and headed toward the rice cooker. Seconds later, he returned, and this time, he ate slower.

Silence settled in between them. Midorima wanted to use this time to generate conversation, but he wasn't sure what he wanted to talk about. There were many questions he wanted answers to; though, at the same time, he wasn't sure if he wanted to know. As he pondered over asking, Takao spoke up.

"I was kicked out," he explained, picking at the vegetables in his bowl. "Disagreement with the old man, that's all."

At that point, curiosity overwhelmed him, and he couldn't help but ask, "How long ago was that?"

"Two weeks, give or take a few days. You can't really keep up when you don't have a calendar."

"You went around stealing bread for two weeks?"

"No," Takao replied before pausing for a moment to finish off his second bowl of rice. "I had other ways."

Midorima waited for him to explain what he meant by 'other ways,' but Takao remained quiet until he swallowed the last of his food.

"Thanks for the meal!"

Although the cheerful tone replaced the solemn one, the atmosphere didn't change at all; Midorima still wanted an explanation— an explanation that, from the looks of it, Takao wasn't going to provide. That meant one of two things: it didn't matter, or it was best if he didn't know about it. He was betting on the latter.

Brushing the thought aside for now, he finished his dinner and stood up to clean off the table. As he did, Takao began suggesting things they could do before bed time. Among the suggested was watching a movie together, which Midorima automatically rejected, but ended up complying anyway.

They weren't exactly watching a movie. It was more of a game show, and Takao was the only one watching it; Midorima was reading a book. During the second commercial break, his guest stood up, said he needed to use the bathroom, and left. While he was away, Midorima attempted to get back into reading, but he found that difficult to do when his mind was swirling with thoughts.

He never had someone over at his house before, so having Takao here was— and he would never admit this— nice. It wasn't _Takao_ in particular, though; it was just having _someone_ in general. But he shouldn't dwell on this feeling; his current company would be gone the next day, after all.

"Your bathroom smells like coconut."

"That's because you used half of the shampoo bottle, idiot."

"Eh? No, I didn't!"

"You did. The bottle was half-empty when I used it."

Takao huffed. "That's because you used half of it."

"What? That doesn't even make any sense."

"Yes, it does!"

Midorima tore his gaze away from the other man. Again, he found himself caught up in a childish argument; he needed to stop that before it became a habit.

"Ne, Shin-chan. I'm bored."

"Watch TV," he replied curtly while turning a page and allowing his eyes to rest on the first paragraph.

"But I've been doing that for the past hour, and you're not even watching it with me!"

Midorima looked up from his reading. "What are you, a child?"

In response, Takao planted both hands on his hips and pouted. "You're being mean again."

"You're being rude again," he responded without missing a beat. "You should be thankful I'm letting you stay another night."

"But I am."

"You're not showing it."

When he didn't make another remark, Midorima glanced over to see what was keeping him quiet. Takao's forehead was slightly creased and his eyebrows were drawn together as if he was contemplating something. After a few seconds, he spoke up.

"Okay."

Midorima didn't know what to expect when Takao took a few tentative steps toward him, and he still didn't know what to expect when the other fell to his knees in front of him. At first, he assumed Takao was going to start bowing, but his next action eliminated that thought. Eyes half-lidded, he reached over and hooked his fingers around the waistband of Midorima's pajama bottoms, and before he could process what was happening, Takao slipped his hand in.

His first instinct was to shove him away; his second was to bring his legs up and cover the area he just felt violated in.

Eyes blown wide and cheeks flaming with heat, he stared at Takao, who was reflecting the same surprised expression. Neither of them spoke for some time, and when one of them did, it was Midorima.

"What ... What the hell, Takao?" He knew the kid was spontaneous, but he didn't think he would be _that_ spontaneous. Here, he thought his guest had more sense, but from the looks of it, that didn't seem so, because _he just made a move on him_.

"I ... I thought you wanted me to thank you."

Thank him?

"What are you talking about?"

Takao seemed confused, and Midorima didn't like that look at all. It made him feel like _he_ initiated the contact, when he didn't do anything at all— and he wasn't planning on doing anything either. Even though Takao said he was twenty-four, he was still a kid.

"You said I wasn't showing my thanks, so I thought ..."

So that's what this was all about.

With his cheeks and ears still tinted pink from flushing, Midorima diverted his eyes. "I-I didn't mean that. I just— you were being disrespectful, so I ... called you out on it."

"Oh."

As silence consumed the two of them, Midorima regained his composure despite the nagging thought that _Takao had made a move on him_. It bothered him— the action was vulgar, but there was something else to it that he couldn't put his finger on at the moment.

"Sorry."

Midorima, though he was still trying to get over what happened, replied, "It's fine." When Takao didn't say anything more, he closed his book and got up from the couch. Only then did the other pipe up.

"Where are you going?"

"To bed."

"Ah ... good night, then."

Midorima didn't spare him another look. Given the chance to get away, he did just that.

A good thirty minutes later, when he heard the TV finally cut off, Midorima concluded his thoughts.

What bothered him was Takao's action, and now he knew why. "_I had other ways_." That was what Takao said, and though he didn't specify, Midorima felt that he knew what the "other ways" was.

He didn't get much sleep after that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning:** n/a  
**Disclaimer:** when Murasakibara runs out of money to buy snacks (seriously, does he rob a bank or)  
**Author's Note:** so this chapter was just a pain in the butt to write. B( i had writer's block for two weeks, but i managed to get a little inspiration over this past weekend. BUT ASIDE FROM THAT, i want to thank each and every one of you who reviewed / favorited / alerted this story! i'm super glad that you're all enjoying it, and i hope this chapter (and the future ones) won't disappoint you ~ thank you again for sticking with me! ; w;

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Despite their mishap, Takao had managed to weasel his way into another night, then two, and by time day three rolled around, Midorima had gotten use to waking up and hearing movement in the kitchen. Of course, he tried multiple times to get Takao out of his house; one of his first attempts consisted of him handing the kid a hefty sum of money that should've lasted him a week, but Takao turned around and bought a double seated bike, claiming that he could "transport Shin-chan to and from the doctor's office!" At first, Midorima thought he was joking and shooed him away. In return, Takao thought _he_ was kidding and tried to slide past him into the house. To this day, he still didn't understand why he had silently agreed to let Takao stay.

Another thing he didn't understand was why Takao thought he was willing to ride behind him. Today marked the seventh day the other offered to take him to work with the double-seated bike, and, like the six times before, Midorima flat out refused. Though he liked the idea of being transported to the office, there was no way he was going to sit behind Takao and wrap his arms around the kid's waist (a safety precaution in case he fell off).

But Takao insisted, telling him that the money would go to waste if they didn't make use of the bike. In that case, Midorima couldn't bring himself to say no, but he couldn't exactly say yes to putting his arm around the other either. It was already embarrassing enough to arrive at the office with someone off the streets; he didn't want to sacrifice being embarrassed again for riding up with his arms around Takao— not to mention, the last thing he needed was for his coworkers to get ideas.

Yes, he was a thirty-four year old single man, but no, his type was definitely not younger, persistent men.

And he told himself this repeatedly as he got onto the second seat of the bike. Given, there was a bit of a leeway in between him and Takao's back, but it wasn't much and still required him to hold onto something to prevent an accident from happening.

Ever so reluctantly, he reached over and placed both of his hands on Takao's waist. In response, the other jumped.

"G-Geez! Give me a warning or something!"

Midorima bristled a little at the reply. He was hoping that Takao wouldn't make a comment about the strange position his hands were in, but of course, that was only wishful thinking.

"Wrap your arms around me."

At the sound of that command, Midorima's fingers twitched. "I'm fine in this position," he assured. Really, he was; he had a firm grip, and besides, it wasn't like Takao was going to go _that_ fast.

"You're going to fall."

"I won't."

Takao huffed. "You're stubborn."

Midorima glared into the kid's back. "I'm not stubborn."

"Whatever you say, Shin-chan." With that, he rang the bike bell one, two— _four_ times and then began peddling.

The bicycle shot forward, and Midorima, who wasn't expecting it, found himself losing balance. In a pitiful attempt to save himself from falling, he leaned forward and extended his arms around his company's smaller frame. When he did this, Takao, the bastard, braked the bike and glanced over his shoulder at him with a taunting smile adorning his lips.

"You okay?" he asked, and although these were the words that came from his mouth, there was an underlying question of '_what did I tell you_?' Midorima, to the best of his ability, tried to ignore the tone he was given.

"I'm fine."

"Alright, then. I'm going to start biking now."

Midorima knew he looked stupid with his arms snaked around this kid's waist, and he cringed at the thought of others seeing him in this position. Perhaps it was better to get off and walk the rest of the way there. He considered this, but before he could make a decision, Takao spoke up, deterring his thoughts.

"Shin-chan, have you ever been in love?"

That was one question he wasn't prepared to answer. Like most others, he had fallen in love— multiple times, in fact— but had he ever _been_ in love? No, not exactly. There were different definitions of the word _love_. To some, it meant getting butterflies in their stomachs and flushing every time their object of affection walked by. To others, it was a strong attachment, and nothing more than that. He had gotten butterflies before and had flushed when the person he liked walked by. He had also created strong bonds with others. He was, after all, human, like everyone else. But had he _been_ in love? No, not yet.

"Don't ask personal questions."

"Heh." Takao tilted his head back. "How about we make it fair? I tell you a little bit about myself, and you tell me a little bit about yourself."

When the deal was proposed, Midorima itched to shoot it down, but he couldn't get rid of the lingering curiosity. Takao wasn't like anyone else; though a small amount of proof was provided, he could feel it. Every action performed, every word spoken— there was a reason behind it. A normal person would have ran off with his money or robbed him the moment he let his guard down, but not Takao. Takao seemed like he didn't care about money; all he wanted was shelter, and to get that, he made deals— "I'll go out and buy your lucky items every morning!" "I'll take you to work!" "I'll cook and clean!" Things like that only made Midorima wonder what his guest had been through.

"I dated a few girls back in high school," Takao began. "Believe it or not, I was pretty popular. I played basketball, got dates to dances, those things, but I never really cared for them. I just dated girls to pass time. That's not bad, is it?" He laughed, but his laughter, Midorima carefully noted, was dry. "During my last year of high school, I experimented with a guy."

Hearing this, Midorima shifted in his seat and retracted his arms a bit.

"Ah? Did I make you uncomfortable? Sorry, sorry."

When Takao didn't continue with the story, Midorima cleared his throat. "It's fine." Honestly, he wasn't all that concerned about the other's love life, but Takao asked the question out of the blue, so of course it perked his curiosity.

"He was alright. No better than girls." Takao paused. "I went off to college, slept around a few times—" Midorima crinkled his nose at this. "— drank and partied—" His brow creased. "—the usual college stuff, y'know?" Again, Takao stopped talking, and for the time being, Midorima thought he was done, but that wasn't so. "I met this guy at one of these parties. I don't remember what exactly happened, but I remember getting drunk off my ass and sleeping with him. A week later, we bumped into each other in the hallway, and he asked me out for coffee. Our relationship kind of escalated from there. He was great to me— charming, bought me gifts, a great fuck— I couldn't really ask for more."

At this point, Midorima wasn't sure where the story was going. He felt like Takao was going to continue gushing— although he wasn't really gushing in the first place— about this person he was involved with. For some reason, Midorima didn't want to hear it; there was a strained feeling in his chest, and it only increased when Takao proceeded to recount the details about this man.

"I didn't take our relationship _that_ seriously. I mean, come on, I was in college. Marriage's the last thing on my mind." He sniffed. "We didn't last long, anyway, so it doesn't matter. The end!" Finishing on a cheerful note, the biker turned back to grin at him. "Your turn, Shin-chan! Tell me something about your love life. You must have gone on a date before, right? I don't know who would go after a stick in the mud like you, but you never know."

Midorima huffed at the comment. Despite what everyone assumed, he wasn't really a stick in the mud; there were times when he had fun, and by fun, he didn't mean drinking, partying, or having sex. His idea of fun was more refined— playing the piano, for example. But when was the last time he played? That, he couldn't remember.

"What was your first date like? Was she pretty? Where did you go? How long were you together?"

"I thought I made it clear that it's none of your business."

"Is it because you never dated?" Takao snickered. "Poor Shin-chan. You're as lonely as you seem."

At the sound of that, Midorima frowned. For the past ten years, he surrounded himself with colleagues, so he wasn't _technically_ lonely. Sure, it was common for him to go home and announce his arrival to an empty place, but that didn't mean he was lonely, did it? Like love, there were many definitions of the word _lonely_; his definition was just different from everyone else's.

"I took my high school teacher out on a date when I was in college."

The bike swerved abruptly, but a second later, Takao managed to get it back in line with the sidewalk.

"Ah? So you're into _that_ type?"

Midorima flushed. "It was one date. I wouldn't consider it anything special." She had bumped into him on the street, and after idle chit chat, he decided to ask her out. It was during their dinner conversation that he realized she had gotten married while he was away for college. The news didn't wound him; yes, he was a bit upset, but what could he do about it? As long as she was happy, he was all right.

"I need details."

"She had blonde hair."

"That's not enough detail!"

Lucky for him, Takao chose that moment to pull up to the office. Seeing this as a chance to avoid detailing his date, Midorima got off the seat and instructed the other to park in the given lot. Though Takao grumbled and complained about how he wasn't being fair, he complied to the orders and secured the bike to the rack.

— x — o — x —

Takao liked Midorima. He liked Midorima a lot and far more than he should. But it wasn't a romantic type of like; it was more of a respectful kind.

Good first impressions were rare these days, and Takao knew that from experience, but Midorima? He was a different story.

A week and a half ago, he was dripping wet and freezing; his thin t-shirt and sweatpants weren't enough to warm him nor did it tend to his growling stomach. He was on the brink of passing out and decided it was better to curl up against a wall than continue on with the possibility of fainting in the middle of the street. And so, that was what he did. Takao didn't expect anyone to pay any attention to him; he heard a few people pass by and yearned to reach out to them, but he _couldn't_. They were all unattainable. As he was drifting off to sleep, the rain stopped, and he looked up. Midorima, at that time, wasn't smiling; he didn't say anything either, but his eyes told Takao his reason for helping him: Midorima pitied him, and that was all right. In that state, he needed to be pitied.

He had originally planned to leave the following morning, but during their first dinner together, he changed his mind. After taking in the surrounding atmosphere, he decided he wanted to stay. It wasn't that Midorima was the _best_ person to stick with, but he felt safe, and that was all that really mattered to him.

Midorima was an interesting person. Even though he had a cool exterior, he was, surprisingly, warm-hearted. Takao wanted to say it was because he dealt with kids on a daily basis, but he had seen Midorima in action; the other wasn't any less stoic with sick children. But he was a caring person— well, either that or he was the type to succumb easily. Whichever it was, Takao was benefitting from it.

Not that he was using Midorima. He already felt bad for begging him to let him stay, but that all balanced out with the deals he made, right? Besides, even though Midorima insisted him to leave, Takao saw the emotion that flickered across the other's eyes. He didn't want him to go, and Takao didn't blame him. After all, he lived in a house by himself— he was _lonely_. Takao knew what it felt like to be alone; even though he was sure they went through two different types of loneliness, the effects were the same. The pain, the hurt, the struggle— leaving the house meant welcoming loneliness back. He didn't want that, and he was convinced that Midorima didn't want that either.

"Is there something on my face?"

Takao shoved a piece of asparagus into his mouth and shook his head to answer his host's question.

"Hmph."

Hearing that, Takao couldn't help but duck his head and smile.

Today marked the tenth night they would spend together, and by now, it was routine for them to eat dinner and then separate for bed. It was nice feeling— being in a place he could call home, having someone that actually cared for his well being. If he could stay here forever, he would, but he knew that, sooner or later, Midorima was going to find someone else, and he would have to find another shelter. Hopefully by then, he would be able to get a job and pay for himself.

But that was later on down the road. Now, he was just concerned with getting back on his feet.

Mimicking Midorima's actions, Takao stood and cleared off the table.

After putting the dishes in the sink and wrapping up the leftovers, he parted to the living room and turned on the TV. As he flopped down on the couch and began tuning in on the drama that was playing, he heard Midorima climb into bed. What he didn't hear was the other closing the door. That was out of the ordinary. Did he forget? He doubted it. There was probably a good reason why the door was open.

Brushing the thought off, Takao pulled the blankets up to his chest and turned his full attention on the girl sobbing on TV. When the show proved to be boring, he grabbed the remote and turned it off. Now faced with darkness, he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

Cutting through the silence was the gentle ticking of the clock, and that was what he used to count himself to sleep.

_Seventy-seven ... seventy-eight ... seventy-nine_—

He turned over and faced the back cushion.

_Eighty ... eighty-one ... eighty-two_—

"Shin-chan?"

He didn't get an answer— not that he was expecting one in the first place; Midorima did have the tendency to ignore him. Then again, the other could be sleeping, but that didn't stop Takao from saying what he was supposed to say days ago.

"Thank you for caring."

_Eighty-three ... eighty-four ... eighty-five_—

"Go to sleep, Takao."

And so he did, but this time, with a smile.


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning:** n/a  
**Disclaimer:** when the only person that can beat aomine isn't aomine— oh wait  
**Author's Note: **Hello, everyone! I finally got off my lazy butt and wrote this chapter. CAN I GET A HALLELUJAH? No? Ok. But on a more serious note, I'm sorry for another late update, but hey, you get a super long chapter, so it's sorta-kinda worth the wait, yes? c; Aha, anyways, enjoy, my darlings ~

* * *

To say that Midorima was content with the arrangement of things now wasn't exactly an overstatement. For the last ten days, Takao had proved himself helpful; he cooked and cleaned without being asked to, went out every other day to find the lucky item, and kept Midorima company. It wasn't that Midorima _liked_ Takao's company. Rather, he _appreciated_ it. Though he would never admit it, his guest enriched his daily life. Instead of getting up and dragging himself to work as usual, he had the option to sit down and hold a conversation with the other over breakfast. Same went with lunch and dinner.

Takao wasn't the best company; given, he could discuss topics with a serious undertone, but of course, that was rare. The sole reason why Midorima felt attracted to him was because he was _interesting_. When Takao told his stories, whether they were true or not, it perked Midorima's curiosity even more. Some tales were about the adventures he went through; others hinted at another subject. But even after ten days of this, he still didn't understand Takao.

He didn't fear asking. Much like before, he wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to know. The thought '_it's probably not as bad as it seems_' crept through his mind, but immediately afterwards, it clashed with '_what if it is_?' So he decided to conceal his questions. After all, the memory of what happened last time when he asked the other something personal continued to haunt him to this day.

Midorima hated it. Every time the image of Takao reaching into his pants crossed his mind, he would freeze in the middle of what he was doing and will the thought away. It wasn't only that; the _look_ Takao gave him also factored into everything else, and if there was anything that lingered on his mind more, it was _that look_.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he removed the toothbrush from his mouth and allowed a soft breath to escape. He needed to stop thinking about these things; not only did it bother him, but it also interfered with his focus.

"Dammit."

With a final attempt to shove the thought away, Midorima regained his composure and proceeded to rinse out his mouth. After splashing his face with water and dabbing it dry, he leaned into the mirror and squinted at his blurred figure. The corners of his eyes were beginning to crinkle due to age, but fortunately, it wasn't as visible as some others'. Figuring it was best not to dwell on something like this and instead turn his attention on things that were more important, Midorima grabbed his glasses and put them on. From there, he headed out of the bathroom and into the kitchen to make breakfast.

The first thing he noticed was that Takao wasn't back yet. It wasn't, by any means, strange, though. If he remembered correctly, the other left to buy his lucky item (a stuffed rabbit) ten minutes ago. The closest store was five minutes away, and taking that information, he concluded that Takao _should_ be back within the next fifteen minutes, which gave Midorima plenty of time to prepare the morning meal.

Keeping that in mind, he began to boil water.

Before Takao came, he had never been complimented on his cooking before. When it came to making anything to eat, he simply threw things together and that was that; some of it didn't taste as good as others did in his opinion, but when Takao barged in and consumed everything he had cooked, he was told that his food was "the best ever." To this day, Midorima wasn't sure whether his company was simply saying that or if he actually enjoyed it. Whichever it was, he liked to think that his cooking wasn't _that_ bad; after all, Takao hadn't gotten sick from it yet.

Musing, Midorima moved toward the sink, but before he could turn it on, he heard the door open and someone rush in. A few seconds later, he greeted by the sound of puking. That wasn't good.

Without another thought, Midorima ushered out of the kitchen and glanced around the living room. No one was around, but the blenching continued on his right. If he was fortunate, Takao— if it was Takao— managed to make it to his bathroom.

After shutting and locking the front door, he proceeded to his bedroom. By now, the puking had stopped, and in its place was the horrid stench. Though he wrinkled his nose at it, Midorima wasn't much fazed; he continued onward until he stood at the door of his bath.

"Takao?"

Instead of the usual cheerful response, Takao ignored him and retracted into ball; he was curled up against the wall, his arms tightened around his legs, his face buried in his knees. It reminded Midorima of the first time the met; Takao was in this exact position. The only difference was that he was shaking and crying.

It wasn't a violent shake but a mere tremble. Either way, Midorima found himself concerned. He didn't know Takao frontwards and backwards, but he knew him well enough to know that something had happened.

His first step toward the other was hesitant, and Midorima wasn't sure why. He had dealt with this before— Takao was just another sick kid, right? If that was the case, then why was he hesitating? He had gone to school for ten years for the sole purpose of treating sick people, and now, he was considering backing off? Given, Takao was no longer a child, but that didn't make him any different. A pediatrician was a doctor trained specifically to help kids, but no where on his certificate did it say he could ignore those that weren't younger than eighteen.

Brushing off these thoughts and shoving away his hesitation, Midorima took a few more steps in and then crouched down in front of the other. Takao, again, didn't bother with him.

"Takao," he said. "Are you feeling sick in your stomach?" When he didn't receive an immediate response, Midorima reached over and placed a hand on his guest's shoulder. This hand was smacked away.

"Don't touch me." Takao's voice was raspy, but his unusual stern tone sent a clear message.

Drawing back, Midorima stood up and, without another word, walked out of the bathroom. He figured it was best not to push the subject. Takao knew he was a doctor; if he needed his help, then he would say something. Keeping that in mind, he returned to the kitchen.

Midorima didn't, however, go back to preparing breakfast. Instead, with the boiled water, he decided it was more beneficial to make tea. When he was done, his ears perked to the sound of water running. Such told him that Takao was now up on his feet. That was a good sign.

With a cup of tea in his right hand, he made his way back to the bathroom. Upon his arrival, Takao was leaning over the running sink, his hair damp from being touched by water. He didn't make a move to shut the faucet off, so Midorima did that for him. And he almost wish he hadn't. Since the water was no longer running, silence camped out in between them. He wanted to ask questions, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out, so he settled with a simple greeting.

"Here," he offered, placing the cup of tea next to Takao's hand, which, he noted, was white from clenching the side of the sink.

He expected to be ignored, but this time, that wasn't the case. Takao, though generally unresponsive before, muttered a word of thanks before moving his pale fingers around the cup. As he lifted it to his lips, a few strands of his bangs fell back, revealing the side of his face. Midorima caught a glimpse of something dark, and with a glance at Takao's reflection, he confirmed his observation. Around his guest's right eye were blotches of purple and red that had bloomed to create a shadow of a black eye. The moment this clicked in Midorima's head, he reached out, grabbed Takao's shoulders, and jerked him around to face him.

"What happened?" he demanded.

He could see it clearly now; the area surrounding the other's eye was bruised, and his eyelid— the one he didn't bother keeping open— was swelled. Midorima had seen multiple black eyes and bruises before due to his job but not one that was in the process of turning dark. Such sight made his stomach churn.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Takao shoved his hands off his shoulder and attempted to move past him, but Midorima stayed rooted in his spot. The fingers that were wrapped around the other tightened, keeping him in place. In response, Takao ducked his head and allowed his bangs to curtain his gaze.

"Who did this to?" When he didn't get a response, he shook him. "Answer me!"

"No one! I fell off the bike—"

"Bullshit, Takao. Falling off your bike does not result in this."

Again, his guest tried to pull away, but Midorima kept his grip firm. This, however, didn't seem like the right move. Takao's visible eye peered up at him, and though it was barely noticeable, there was a hint of distaste in the look it was giving. By now, Midorima was used to seeing the wide, smiling eyes, but this look— this _glare_— was something new. The eye was slitted and sharply observant; the pupil, though usually a lovely shade of pale blue, had been darkened to gray. It was as if all traces of childish innocence had left him.

"I was mugged," Takao answered at last. His words were curled with poison, matching well with the glare he was giving him.

Midorima loosened his grasp on the shoulders before removing his hands completely. "What did they look like?"

The other shook his head. "Didn't get a good look at him." He then turned to the side and began nudging past him. "It's nothing. I'll be fine."

Perhaps it was his doctor-like instinct or the returning pity— whatever it was, Midorima felt inclined to help. Picking up one of Takao's arm, he draped it around his shoulders. He then wrapped his own arm around the figure's back, holding him up in place. Much to his fortunate, Takao didn't resist.

"Does your stomach still hurt?"

Again, he was given a headshake.

"No. I just ... need to lay down."

As Midorima maneuvered him over to his bed— he decided that it was easier for both of them to travel to the bed rather than the couch— he analyzed the other. Takao wasn't, by any means, beaten up to the point in which he needed to be transferred to the hospital. If anything, the black eye was the only proof that something had happened to him on the way to or from the store. He also appeared shaken. Though the visible trembling had worn off, Midorima could still feel him shift a few times under his arm.

When they reached the foot of the bed, his arm slipped down to Takao's waist to help hoist him up. Though his guest stumbled and faltered a little, he, nevertheless, managed to climb onto the mattress and curl up underneath the covers. Neither of them spoke for awhile, but when Midorima turned to go out of the room, Takao piped up.

"Ne, Shin-chan."

Midorima glanced over his shoulder at the figure that was buried under the bundle of blankets. "What is it?"

The fort of covers shifted slightly, but Takao remained silent. After a few seconds of waiting for an answer, Midorima turned away. "I'll bring you some ice," he said.

As he made his way back to the kitchen, he picked up his cellphone and dialed work. Within three rings, a cheerful voice greeted him. Unlike most others at seven in the morning, Momoi was up and about, and though he knew that she sometimes dreaded her job, her voice remained bright. She reminded him much of Kise and Takao; it was rare for her— or any of them— to frown, but of course, they were all human. He had seen Momoi and Kise frown before, but today was the first time he had seen something other than a smile on Takao's face.

Pushing those thoughts out of his mind, Midorima requested his schedule for the day. For the next few moments, he heard papers shuffling, and when Momoi came back on the phone, she told him that he had an appointment in two hours and another one at noon. Hearing this, his eyebrows furrowed. Chances were, those two appointments were for physical check ups, else they would've been scheduled earlier. Holding onto his conclusion, he asked the receptionist if Kise could take over those two appointments for him. When he was asked why, Midorima found himself telling her that Takao was sick. She didn't need any further explanation. Once he traded a couple of more words with the pink-haired female, she told him to get off the phone and take care of his guest, and Midorima did just that.

With a bag of ice in his hands, he returned to his bedroom. Takao was still huddled under the covers, and when Midorima tapped him, he didn't budge. It took multiple of tries after that to get him to show his face, and when he did, he took the bag of ice and then turned away.

Midorima wanted to say something, but again, he was unable to speak. His gaze lingered on the opposing figure, observing the position Takao was in among other aspects. As he did this, he became wary of the clock ticking. It was much too quiet around here.

Sighing, he shifted toward the bathroom, but before he could reach it, he heard Takao's voice calling out to him.

"Shin-chan."

There was no denying it. The moment he heard his nickname, his heart began picking up speed. Did something happen? Was Takao in pain again? He turned around.

"Do you need something?"

Takao eased the blankets down his face and tilted his head slightly so that Midorima could see the blackened eye. "Stay beside me," he requested. Midorima wasn't sure if he heard correctly, but there was definitely an underlying tone of desperation.

"I'll be in the bathroom," he paused for a bit, "but I'll be here if you need anything."

He didn't get a verbal reply, but he did get a small smile, and that was enough for him.

— x — o — x —

They had dinner together that night. Takao, by this point, wasn't back to his usual talkative self, but he had been improving since this morning. His stomach, according to him, had settled and was okay with eating stir fry vegetables and miso soup. It was a relief on Midorima's part; he had never babysat anyone before, and though Takao could very well take care of himself, he was still a burden.

After they cleared away the table, Midorima asked, for what seemed like the hundredth time today, if Takao felt all right. He was given a nod in response. They then traded good nights, and with that, parted ways.

Midorima was engaged in a page-turning novel when Takao stepped in not twenty minutes later. When his eyes caught sight of the other standing at the door, he put his book down and straightened up.

"Takao," he said.

Takao, by any means, didn't look sick; he actually managed to hold himself upright. Furthermore, aside from the dark circle surrounding his right eye, he appeared fine. And when he walked to the open side of the bed, his stance did not falter.

"Can I sleep here tonight?"

Midorima blinked. The question hovered in the air, creating another hanging silence in between them. When it finally sunk in, his brow creased.

"What's wrong with the couch?"

His guest's eyes shifted to the side, indicating his hesitation, but after some nervous movements with his hands, his gaze returned.

"Nothing. I might get sick in the middle of the night. I just thought it would be better if I'm closer to the bathroom."

He did have a point. Though the carpet in the living room wasn't his main concern, Midorima didn't like the idea of cleaning puke up and then getting a new carpet. Not to mention, if Takao were to get sick, it would be easier to assist him— but that still meant he would either have to share the bed or sleep on the floor. He was unwilling to do both, but the latter idea seemed worse, and he wasn't going to make Takao sleep on the floor; he wasn't that cruel. With his mind made up, Midorima shifted over to one side of the bed.

"Stay on your side of the bed," he said while picking his novel back up.

"All right!"

Midorima didn't bother replying; his attention was back on the words printed on each page of the book. This attention, however, began to flicker when he became aware of a pair of eyes on him. He managed to ignore it for another five minutes, but after that, he had to approach the subject.

Casting his gaze over to the dark-haired figure, Midorima quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

Takao tilted his head slightly. "You have long eyelashes."

Such statement alerted him. Of course, he had many compliments on said eyelashes before, but up to this day, he still wasn't good at accepting them. If anything, it humiliated him. Men like him weren't supposed to have long eyelashes! But he didn't have a choice; they had grown out, and there was nothing he could do about them. They didn't bother him; like his upper lashes, they were just _there_. It was only when someone pointed them out did he actually feel conscious of them being there.

"That was a compliment," Takao added as if he had been observing Midorima's distorted expression. "They're pretty."

Feeling the temperature creep up in his cheeks, Midorima reached up and adjusted his glasses out of embarrassment. "Eyelashes can't be pretty."

A smile eased its way over Takao's lips. "But Shin-chan's eyelashes are."

Deciding it was best to ignore that comment, Midorima jerked his attention back to the novel in his hand. Much to his luck, the conversation ended there.

For the next hour, he continued to read, and by time he got to the seventh chapter of the book, Takao had already fallen asleep. He glanced at the clock, and after realizing that it was late, he bookmarked the page he was on and placed it, along with his glasses, on the nightstand. With a final look over his shoulder at the sleeping figure, he turned off the lights and slipped under the covers.

— x — o — x —

Takao's mind worked in a particular way; once he was permitted to do something, apparently it was okay for him to continue doing it. Midorima came to this conclusion on the third morning he woke up with the other lying next to him.

He only agreed to let Takao sleep in his bed for one night— and that was because there was a possibility that he could get sick. The second night, even though he pleaded, Midorima shooed him back to the couch. But somehow, without him knowing, his guest had slipped in bed with him in the middle of the night. Needless to say, Midorima's reaction yesterday morning wasn't the best.

And this morning wasn't any different.

After putting his glasses on, Midorima pushed himself into a sitting position, and with his now clear vision, he peered over at the sleeping figure.

Takao had a face of a child. His pale skin was young and unblemished, his facial features drawn to perfection. The only thing that set him apart from others was the bruise around his eye. Two full days had passed, and from the looks of it, it was getting better; the color, a fair shade of black before, had faded a little. In a week or two, it should turn yellow and eventually disappear.

Turning away, Midorima swung his legs off the bed and stood up. This movement evidently caused Takao to wake up.

"Eh ... Shin-chan? Is it six already?" He heard a yawn, and then— "Ow, ow! What did you hit me for!" Takao peered up at him with a pout. "I'm already in pain!"

Midorima was tempted to reach out and smack the other's head again, but figuring that that wouldn't do any good for either of them, he decided against it.

"I didn't say you could sleep in my bed," he replied, his words cold.

"You let me yesterday—" Takao began with a slight whine in his tone.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Today is the last day. Do you understand?"

Though his guest continued to pout, he, with every bit of reluctance, agreed.

But of course, when it came time for Midorima to go to bed, he was bombarded with the same question he had heard the previous three nights: "Can I sleep here tonight?"

His answer, as always, was immediate: "No." And it took him four more no's to finally get the other out of his bedroom.

Midorima wasn't stupid. He knew that, once he was fast asleep, Takao would sneak into bed with him. So this time, after he turned off the lights and settled under the covers, he stayed awake and waited. True to his thought, about thirty minutes later, he heard footsteps approaching him. Since the light wasn't on, his sight was limited, but he could still make out Takao's blurry figure as he climbed onto the mattress. He then expected Takao to turn away and fall asleep, but that wasn't so.

"Are you awake, Shin-chan?"

He wasn't one to be scared easily, but when the other spoke up, he jumped a little. How did Takao know he wasn't asleep? Was it a coincidence, or did he actually know?

As he dwelled over this, the figure next to him shifted, and before he could digest any actions, Takao was hovering over him. Now trapped in between the other's arms, Midorima could only stare up at the looming shadow. His heart, by now, was pounding against his chest. The position he was in made him uncomfortable, and with each passing second, the thumping in his ears got louder.

"You stopped breathing when I came in," Takao murmured. "That's how I knew."

Though he was given an explanation, Midorima didn't bother to acknowledge it. He was much too involved in their current stance to pay attention to anything else.

"Ne, are you going to say something?"

Midorima parted his mouth to reply, but all he could get out was a single word: "Takao." His throat seemed closed up, but that wasn't what he was focused on.

Despite his lack of vision, he could see and _feel_ Takao getting closer, and at this moment, his heart might have very well stopped. He hadn't felt this way in many years— the twisting and turning in his stomach, the blazing heat in his cheeks— they were foreign responses.

"Are you going to push me away?" When Takao asked this question, his warm breath tickled Midorima's lips— a fact indicating that their faces were only a few centimeters away. "Can I kiss you?"

_Yes_.

Though his mind answered for him, Midorima couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. He was conflicted; no, he didn't want Takao to kiss him. Takao was still a child, and not to mention, they haven't gotten that close yet. At the same time, he wanted nothing more than to yank the other down and claim his lips.

He had never felt this way toward Takao before—

No. If he said that, then he would be lying to himself.

During the incident a few weeks ago when Takao wanted to 'thank him', Midorima couldn't deny the way his stomach curled out of excitement. Yes, he was thrown into a state of confusion back then, but that didn't stop his body from reacting like a teenager's.

And that was how his body was reacting now. Years of suppressing his desire was coming back in a rush, and Takao wasn't helping much by asking him _that_ question.

"Hey."

When he felt lips brushing against his own, Midorima squeezed his eyes shut. He should push him away— he should—

"I'm going to kiss you now."

_Okay_.

Their lips touched briefly a few more times before Takao leaned down connected their mouths. At this point, it was difficult to breathe. The heat emitting from the other's body suffocated him. He couldn't move, and judging from Takao's frozen posture, he couldn't either. After a few seconds of staying rigid in this position, his guest pulled back a little.

"Don't forget to breathe, Shin-chan," he murmured.

Midorima exhaled— slowly at first— and once he sucked in a breath, the mouth was back on his.

The first thing he tasted was not Takao's lips but his tongue; after prodding his mouth open, it slipped in and touched his own. Such action sent a shiver down his spine, but Midorima didn't pay it any mind. Instead, he parted his lips even more and accepted the entry. Given the invitation, Takao pressed in and curled his tongue around Midorima's. What first started out as a dance between the two quickly escalated into a fight for dominance. Midorima, now engaged in the kiss, cradled the other's cheeks and attempted to shove the foreign tongue back into its home. This wasn't as simple as it seemed. Takao, with his fingers threading through the soft green locks, fought his way back into Midorima's mouth.

In addition to the battle happening between their lips, their hands began to wander. Desperate fingers clawed at the layers separating them, and the need for skin contact drove them wild.

A small part of him was ashamed of his rash decision to permit this activity, but pure want— _need_— dominated him. He fought for sanity, but in the end, he let himself fall into oblivion.

— x — o — x —

They didn't talk about it, but Midorima no longer cared whether Takao slept in the same bed with him or not.

It was also a wonder how quickly he adapted to waking up next to someone. Just two days after their eventful night, he was already well accustomed to the heat emitting from the person lying beside him.

In all honesty, he liked it. Though they weren't romantically involved, Midorima found peace waking up with Takao. It made him feel, in a strange way, less lonely.

With a soft sigh leaving his lips, Midorima rolled over and opened his eyes to find that he was a breath away from the other. Takao was sound asleep, his facial expression neutral, relaxed. Soft snores touched the silence in harmony with the rise and fall of his chest.

Figuring that he shouldn't disturb Takao's slumber, Midorima shifted to his side of the bed and sat up. After patting around the nightstand, he retrieved his glasses and put them on. With clearer vision, he glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping figure once more. This time, instead of noticing Takao's steady breathing, his eyes caught sight of something sticking out from underneath his pillow. Curious as to what it was, Midorima reached over and pulled it out. When he had the object in the palm of his hands, he stared at it.

It took him a few moments to register what it was, and when it dawned down upon him, Midorima immediately yanked the covers off of his guest and began patting down the other's body to make sure there weren't any more of this item. During this action, Takao stirred.

"Ah ... Shin-chan, what are you ..."

Before Takao could finish rubbing his eyes, Midorima retracted his hands and hastily got off the bed. With the object still clutched in his hand, he stumbled back a safe distance.

"Shin-chan? What's wrong?"

While Takao sat up, Midorima noted the confusion in the other's eyes. When said eyes landed on the item in his hand, Takao's expressions changed. Not giving him a chance to explain himself, Midorima spoke up.

"What is this?" he demanded, holding up the object in his right hand.

His guest seemed frantic. "Let me explain—"

Was an explanation really needed? There was only one reason Midorima could think of for someone to bring a pocketknife to bed.

"Were you planning to kill me, Takao?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning:** hint of gore  
**Disclaimer:** when uh ... idk kurobasu is obviously not mine nanodayo  
**Author's Note: **And some weeks later, AN UPDATE! It's like, two in the morning here, but I wanted to get this chapter out. Annd asdjk thank you all SO MUCH for the reviews! They just made my day and jkasdjk if I could kiss every one of you, I would, but I can't, so I won't — /brick'd. Anyways, enough on the author's note and more on the story. ~ Enjoy! c:

* * *

September 22nd marked the last day he saw Takao. It was September 25th now, promptly three days after he ordered the other to leave his premises. He was burden with regret, but at the same time, he knew he had no other choice. Takao was a dangerous individual, and getting any closer would get _him_ into trouble. Of course, Midorima was also concerned for his own safety; though he hadn't bother to call the police, he did become more aware of his surroundings. Takao's pocketknife was always tucked somewhere along his body — just in case something were to happen.

Not that he expected anything to happen in the first place.

He was actually quite fond of Takao; weeks of living with him had drawn him in, and unexpectedly, he found himself attached. It wasn't any regular attachment either; it wasn't even shown. Rather, it was a lingering attachment — one that was made up with things that tied them together.

Being stubborn was one of his best, and perhaps worst, quality, but there were things he could accept. Loneliness, for example, was something he could — _had_ — to accept. He had known that, from the time he brought Takao home, the other would leave him sooner or later. That didn't mean, however, that he hadn't hoped for him to stay.

His thoughts clashed, stirring with his emotions and throwing him into a state of confusion. Before, he had wanted Takao gone, and now that Takao was actually gone — he wanted him back. There was just _something_ about the younger man's company that he cherished. Perhaps it was because no one had ever clung to him that way before. He had always been the one clinging (though it appeared otherwise) and the one who was left behind in the end. Takao — Takao was simply _different_, and that was it.

"You're zoning out again."

Hearing the voice next to him, Midorima jerked from his thoughts. His sights flew from the open door to the figure standing to the side.

Kuroko raised an eyebrow at this reaction. "Are you sure you're all right?"

He was quick to gather his composure. Straightening up in his seat and pushing his glasses up, Midorima threw his co-worker a sharp look. "What are you doing here, Kuroko? This is my office."

"I know." There was a brief pause, one that probably hinted at hesitation, but nevertheless, the question got out: "Where's Takao?"

Though he had an answer, the words fell ill on his tongue. His mouth had moved to form a response, but he was the only one that could comprehend it. For a moment, his lips lax, and he turned away. Fortunately, Kuroko didn't push him to answer. He was given a few more seconds, and after finding his voice again, Midorima spoke up.

"He ... left."

He feared the other's reaction, but he couldn't help but look. What he saw was exactly what he had expected: Kuroko's eyebrows were furrowed, his brow creased, his lips curved into a gentle frown. It was obvious that there was some sort of disapproval — but _who_ was the disappointment aimed at?

"He just left?"

"No." Midorima rested his elbow on his desk and allowed his hand to hover above his mouth. "I kicked him out."

Out of the corners of his eyes, he could see Kuroko shift until he was leaning against the door. He then took the pleasure of folding his arms over his chest and tilting his head a little. Such posture made Midorima uncomfortable, because it meant his co-worker didn't plan on leaving any time soon, which, all in all, meant that he wanted to talk about this situation.

"Why?"

"I'm not a babysitter."

"And yet, you allowed him to stay at your place for a month," Kuroko scoffed. "I'm not an idiot, Midorima-sensei. Whatever happened between you two bothers you. It's obvious to all of us."

His lips twitched out of mild irritation, but nonetheless, Midorima managed to muster up a reply. "Did you come here to talk to me about this?"

"No. I actually came here to tell you that, if you can't focus on work, then you should take a break."

Sometimes Kuroko was _too_ blunt.

"But we are concerned. You're not like your usual self, and that bothers everyone here. We've already reviewed your appointments for the rest of the week. You taking a break won't be a problem for us —"

"I assure you, Kuroko," Midorima said with a cutting tone, "I don't need to take a break."

That response brought the other to him. "I assure you that you do."

"You can't tell me to take a break. I own this clinic. If you utter another word about me taking one, I will —"

_Slap_!

Shock couldn't even describe what he was feeling the immediate moment after Kuroko's hand connected with his cheek. It stung and prickled at his skin, but he was much too engaged in the thought that _Kuroko had just slapped him_ to think about the pain. His fingers ghosted along his cheek, feeling the area that was probably bright red — he just couldn't believe what had happened. He knew Kuroko was a daring man, but to slap someone that employed him? That was taking it to an entirely new level.

"Stop being immature, Shintarou."

This time, Midorima couldn't function his mouth to move accordingly, so he decided to stay silent. His eyes, however, seemed to have communicated with Kuroko, since the other continued to speak.

"You're supposed to be the role model for all of us, and you're not doing that. Stop being selfish for once and consider those around you."

Selfish — ?

"We're not telling you to take a break for our benefit." Kuroko's strong voice fell to its normal volume. "Do you understand?"

_Selfish_ — ?

"It's to your benefit if you leave my office right now, Kuroko." He could _feel_ the anger building up inside him. Again, the fair haired male was ticking him off. It also added fuel to the fire knowing that Kuroko had _some_ degree of righteous to his words.

Midorima was selfish — but who wasn't? Though he became a pediatrician for the sole purpose of helping others, there was an underlying hope that he would be able to help _himself_.

"Consider a break. Please." With that said, Kuroko backed down and headed out, leaving Midorima to dwell in his puddle of thoughts.

Maybe he did need a break after all. Takao leaving did have a roundabout effect on him; then again, he was hoping work would propose some sort of distraction. According to Kuroko and the others, it wasn't working. — But he was still the owner of this clinic; taking a break for a reason like this was out of the question. Besides, he would get over this in a couple of days.

— **x — o — x —**

"You don't need to walk me home, Momoi." He was as exasperated as he sounded, and that was because. the day following Kuroko's visit, his receptionist began clinging to him. Though she didn't mention Takao's name once, he knew that she was here for answers.

"Don't be like that, Midorima-kun. When a lady offers to walk you home, you're supposed to accept it!" She puffed out her cheeks and folded her arms over her chest. "Besides, you live the next street over. We walk the same general direction, anyway." This was one of the reasons why Midorima stayed overtime at the clinic — he simply did _not_ want to walk home with Momoi.

"Hey — hey! Wait up!"

As footsteps pattered after him, Midorima ignored them; he couldn't, however, avoid them for long. Momoi was as talkative as Takao and Kise combined, and unlike the other two, there was absolutely no way to shut her up. She pressed for an answer, even daring to poke his cheek and tickle him to get a reaction. This didn't prove effective.

"You know, it's not nice to ignore people! Where are your manners?" She walked in front of him then turned around and poked him in the chest, stopping him in his place. "Look, mister. I'm trying to talk to you. The least you can do is acknowledge me." He didn't bother sparing her a look; passing her, he continued on, but again, she was quick to stop him. "Geez, Midorima. I didn't think him leaving hit you this hard. It's really bad just like Kuroko-kun said."

Did everyone think that? He was, for the most part, over Takao leaving. The only reason he was giving Momoi the cold shoulder was because she was annoying him. It would've been better if she had went home without him.

"Are you worried about him?"

Midorima kept his mouth sealed and continued walking.

"Hey, if it makes you feel better, I know where he is."

_That_ stopped him.

Turning around, Midorima shot his receptionist a look. "You know where he is?"

At the moment, he didn't know what sort of emotion was washing over him. He found it easier to function; the tight muscles along his body seemed to have loosened, and the ones that helped move his mouth were restless. It was as if he suddenly felt ... relaxed.

"I do." She paused for a moment, then, with some hesitation in her voice, spoke up again. "He told me everything and made me promise not to tell you."

Takao told _Momoi_ something he couldn't tell _him_?

As he dwelt on this thought, his heart began to throb; it wasn't a joyous throb but a painful one. He didn't like it — he didn't like how _jealousy_ was curling its fingers around his chest. Even more, he didn't like — no, he _hated_ — how he was getting worked up over something like this. Takao told Momoi something. That was it. Nothing more. Then ... why did it hurt?

"What did he tell you?"

Again, she hesitated. "I think it's better if he tells you himself."

_What_ was so important that Takao couldn't tell him? As a man of thirty-four, he had learned how to deal with things — whether it was criticism, comments, or things of that nature. He didn't understand why Takao thought otherwise; he wasn't going to be offended. Just what was going through Takao's head?

"If he wanted me to know, he would've told me before."

"I don't think you understand him," Momoi said, this time, her voice softer than usual.

His eyes narrowed, and without thought, he shot back an answer: "I've lived with him. I know him better than you do."

Who was she to say that she understood him? Sure, Takao may have told her something that _he_ didn't know, but Midorima still knew _more_. He knew what Takao liked and didn't like; he knew his quirks and the certain way he did things; he knew his innocence and his devil; he knew how to make him happy, how to make him sad, how to treat him, how to pleasure him, how to —

"There are things you don't know about him, Mido —"

"He tried to _kill_ me, Momoi. Do you understand that?"

Her mouth opened and closed for a moment. _So she didn't know_. Somehow, that made him feel a _bit_ better; although, now, he found himself concern. Takao could very well target Momoi — and what then?

"Did you ... give him a chance to explain?"

"What is there to explain?"

"I guess you didn't." She fell silent after that.

Midorima allowed his gaze to linger on the female for a few more seconds before he decided to turn away. "The intent was clear. There wasn't anything to explain." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "I suggest cutting all ties with him." He also wanted to recommend calling the police, but something held him back. It was as if he didn't want Takao to get in trouble.

"Wait, Midorima —"

He didn't stop this time. With an unknown emotion fueling inside of him, he saw that it was best to continue home. And fortunately, Momoi let him.

— **x — o — x —**

With some difficulty, he had managed through the night, and by morning, he felt calmer. The incident from yesterday had _somewhat_ flown over his head. Yes, he could still admit that he didn't like the idea of Momoi knowing something he didn't, but he didn't bother to dwell on it. After pulling himself up and getting ready for work, he traveled to the kitchen, paused to look at the empty space, before choosing to go without breakfast.

Like every day excluding the previous month, he started in the direction of the clinic. Since there wasn't much distraction nowadays, he could focus on his surroundings. To his left, the sun was starting to rise, painting the sky a soft shade of pink and orange. Though these two colors warmed the area above, the breeze chilled the land below. He trembled in his coat, but nevertheless, moved on.

It was only half-way there did he get another sort of chill. Such felt familiar, and after careful thought, he pinpointed where he had felt this before. A couple of weeks ago, while he was walking with Takao, he could've sworn he was being watched. Though he hadn't seen anyone, it still made him uncomfortable enough to quicken his pace.

He didn't get far.

A few seconds later, his ears perked to the sound of footsteps — and they weren't his own. Heartbeat picking up, his finger twitched toward the switchblade inside his coat. By now, he was _certain_ that there was someone following him, but _who_, and _what_ did they want? No, perhaps the better question was whether he would be able to bring them down or outrun them. Assuming it was a crook, then he could _probably_ take them down; as for outrunning them, he could always try.

Keeping that in mind, he quickened his pace, and in response, the footsteps following him picked up speed as well. This was definitely not good. As he reached into his coat to remove the pocketknife, the person tailing him spoke up.

"Hey, hey. Whatcha running for? Slow down, old man."

He didn't recognize the voice, but it did send chills down his spine. Removing the blade, he tightened his grip on the handle and proceeded into a light jog. If he was fortunate, the other would leave him alone. Though the situation called for a fight, he knew it was best to get away as quickly as possible while maintaining his guard.

"You know, I can't help but notice that you've been playing with my toy."

Toy — ?

"Oi. Don't ignore me." _Walk away_. "Are you trying to piss me off?" _Walk away_, _walk away_. "Hey! I'm talking to you!" _Walk away, walk away, walk_ —

Something collided with the back of his head. Midorima didn't know what it was, but he figured it wasn't something he wanted to be around. He started to run, but before he could take his second step, he was yanked backward and thrown to the ground. He wasn't sure what happened next. One moment he was perfectly all right, and the next, he couldn't think. His vision was blurry, and his head spun. For the brief moment he glanced over his shoulder at his attacker, he caught a glimpse of dark hair — and that was the last thing he saw before black consumed his sight.

— **x — o — x —**

"Midorima's still not here. He hasn't even given us a call." Momoi frowned at the phone. "And he's not answering either."

Kuroko pressed his lips into a firm line before turning to Kise. "Kise-kun, I want you to go check on him."

Kise, who had been standing off to the side for some time now, blinked and pointed to himself. "Me?"

He received a nod in response.

"Midorima usually lets us know if he's taking a break. Since he's not answering his phone, I assume something happened." Kuroko glanced at Momoi. "You said he was upset yesterday, didn't you?"

The receptionist bit her bottom lip before nodding. "He seemed pretty angry." She rubbed her arm — a sign that she was clearly uncomfortable. "You don't think he —"

"Don't get ideas," Kise said, cutting her off sharply. "I'm sure he has a logical reason for not answering." He tilted his head in Kuroko's direction. "I'll go by his house and see what's up. Call me if you get anything from him."

After mutually agreeing on this, Kise grabbed his coat and headed out.

Now ... where was Midorima? He had known the other for a good amount of time, and something like this was definitely out of character — even Kuroko and Momoi detected it. Speaking of which, Momoi had mentioned something about Midorima being angry; he could only wonder _what_ Midorima was angry over.

"Stupid Midorimacchi," he murmured while kicking a rock. This rock flew forward but was abruptly stopped by something. As his gaze trailed up from the rock to the object blocking its path, Kise froze in his spot.

There was someone on the ground — and that someone was covered in blood — and that someone also had green hair —

"Midorima?" He almost feared getting an answer, but at the same time, he wanted one. "Midorima!"

All previous thoughts forgotten, Kise rushed to the other's side, and as he neared, his eyes began taking in the details of the fallen figure.

Midorima was lying face down. Blood caked the area around him, and the source was from ... his head.

"Oh my God."

There was no denying it; as he fell to his knees beside the other, he was visibly shaken. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. It — It couldn't be Midorima, could it? Reaching out, Kise rolled the man over and —

It was Midorima.

_Oh my God_.

"Mi ... Midorima? Can you hear me?" No answer, no movement. "_Fuck_!"

Frantic hands scrambled for his phone, and after dialing the police and explaining the situation with a wavering voice, Kise tossed the phone aside and focused back on the motionless figure.

"Come on, Midorima! Answer me!"

He needed to stay calm.

"Can you hear me?"

He was trained for this.

"Come on!"

He could save him.

He could—

"_Answer me_!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning:** n/a  
**Disclaimer:** when riko learns how to cook l o l  
**Author's Note:** shh, let's just ignore how long it took me to get this chapter out asjkdk. On a bright note, winter break's finally here! And you know what that means? WRITING. YES. FINALLY. aaaaa, i'm just really excited. ; u; I'm hoping to get the next chapter out soon (maybe not before Christmas, but hey, I can try). And hm, I'm probably going to start another fanfic soon. (If you can go on my profile and vote for the idea that appeals to you the most, that'll be great!) Also, I changed my pen name from _daishinoo_ to _acidtowns_ THIS IS THE LAST TIME I PROMISE. But with all of that aside, I would like to take this moment to thank every one of my readers and reviewers. **You guys are amazing** and I just jksadjk you have no idea how happy I am to have the majority of you stick with this story for this long. **Thank you all again**, and have a wonderful day / Christmas! (-:

* * *

He had a different perspective of heaven. His heaven would be serene, _peaceful_. It would be a place where he could hear his own thoughts over the soft roar of the waterfall to his right. To his left would be a river — one that didn't show his reflection. Beyond there would be shadows of mountains — mountains that reached a higher sky; mountains that were partially covered by mist. Yet, despite the damp weather, his heaven would be warm. The sun, which would be hidden behind the deep, overcast clouds, would never go down. He would forever be trapped in a place where he would be able to see everything but himself.

But no.

This wasn't his heaven.

When his eyes flickered open, he didn't see the waterfall, the river, nor the mountains. Rather, he found himself inside an angel's den. Everything was white as far as he could see, and to his left, someone was holding his hand, memorizing his fingers.

He stirred.

The angel stirred, and then —

"Midorima?"

The angel's voice was soft, majestic, comforting. He felt at ease hearing it, but this tranquil state didn't last for long. The angel removed its hand and called out to him once more. Its voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't place where.

"Midorima, can you hear me?"

There was a hint of worry in the angel's tone — but what was there to worry about? He was in safe hands, was he not?

"Answer me."

The voice — why was it so familiar?

Curiosity perking, he turned his head to the side to see the angel that was demanding him to respond — except, it wasn't an angel. The one that sat to his immediate left was, in fact, a person. But it wasn't any person; it was Kuroko.

"Kuroko?" As this name slipped out, he realized that his mouth and throat were dry. He yearned for water, and the faded image of his dampened heaven didn't help with his thirst. "Water," he whispered in a futile attempt to communicate his needs. Fortunately, Kuroko appeared to understand. Midorima watched with calculating eyes as the other reached over and pushed a button next to his bed. After a few seconds of waiting, a nurse's voice greeted them. Kuroko was quick to tell her that he was awake and needed water. In response, the nurse said she would be on her way, and a minute later, she arrived at the door with a doctor and a glass of water.

So he wasn't in an angel's den after all. That was a good thing, he supposed, because it meant he wasn't dead yet. But how exactly did he get to the hospital? He remembered being attacked, but anything after that was long forgotten.

Flattening his palms against the hospital bed, Midorima attempted to sit up. His action, however, was intercepted by Kuroko, who told him to lay still. Before Midorima could complain, the upper half of the bed was raised, and he found himself propped up in a sitting position.

As he accepted the glass of water and began sipping it to quench his thirst, the doctor questioned his state. His answers were short and quipped, but they were enough for the other. When this session was over, the doctor and the nurse dismissed themselves, and Midorima was subject to other questions — this time from Kuroko.

"Do you know who did this to you?"

Midorima closed his eyes and tried to patch the scene together, but in the end, he could only manage to get one detail out of his memory.

"He had dark hair — black."

From what he could see, Kuroko's expression twisted into one for the worst. His eyebrows strung together, his lips pressed in a thin line. He held a stiff posture with his shoulders arched forward and his hands clenched into twin fists. This was the side Midorima rarely saw, and honestly, it bothered him.

"We'll find whoever did this to you. Aomine and Kagami are already on the case."

"Kagami?"

"The detective — he's Aomine's current partner. They should be dropping by here soon to ask you some questions." The focused look on Kuroko's face slowly dissolved as he said this. "Do you remember anything else about your attacker?"

He remembered the other's words. _You've been playing with my toy_. But what exactly did his assaulter mean by that? Midorima had a hunch it was about a certain someone, but he couldn't be sure. Putting hesitation aside, he shook his head. "Nothing else."

Conversation was then kept at a minimum, and for once, Kuroko did most of the talking. As hours ticked by, Kuroko told him about the things that had happened while he was in the hospital. Apparently, Kise was the one who found him and called the police. After that, he was verbally unresponsive for three days straight, and that, itself surprised him. Considering the relationship he had with Kuroko, he didn't expect the other to stay by his side after the first day, but according to him, he did.

It was strange. Kuroko hadn't cared for him before. What made him change — ?

This thought burdened him through the night and into the next morning, but before he could find an answer, he was distracted by two other guests.

"We would like to speak to Midorima, if that's possible."

"Of course, it's possible. We didn't come all this way just to leave, idiot."

"I was only trying to be formal, you ass!"

Midorima didn't even need to raise his head; after hearing the second voice, he already knew who his visitors were. Peering up, his eyes landed on vibrant red hair. To the immediate left was dark blue hair. He recognized one of them as Aomine — a former classmate of his — but the other one, he had never seen before. Kuroko did say something about Aomine having a partner, though. Whatever his name was, Midorima decided he didn't like him. He was, after all, loud, and this was a hospital last he checked.

Fortunately, Kuroko grasped this concept, too.

"If you're only here to bicker, then please leave."

The two ceased in argument, which, as Midorima visibly saw, relaxed the nurse. She had been standing off to one side, looking as if she wanted to say something, but her hesitation caused Kuroko to speak up. Either way, it resolved the problem.

"Tetsu!" Snarl gone, Aomine swung his arm around Kuroko and pulled him in. "How's Midorima doing?"

"I'm capable of talking, you know," Midorima responded, thoroughly irritated at the other's behavior.

"Ignore him," the redhead said, exasperated. "I'll be the one asking questions. Name's Kagami Taiga. I'm the detective assigned to your case, and if you don't mind, I'm going to ask you some questions about what happened."

So maybe Kagami wasn't _that_ bad, but he wasn't any better than Aomine himself.

"I already told Kuroko everything there is to tell."

Kagami glanced over his shoulder at his partner before turning back to him. "It's better if we hear the story from you."

By now, Aomine had let go of Kuroko and taken his place next to Kagami. "Cooperate with us, Midorima. We'll find the bastard who did this to you, I can promise you that."

Pressing his lips into a firm line, Midorima allowed those words to sink in.

He found it amusing how things worked. For many years, he was burdened with the thought that no one really cared for him — his former classmates and current co-workers included. Yes, they had expressed worry at times, but never in this sense. They only seemed concern _after_ the attack; otherwise, they hadn't bother with him. That was why Aomine's words didn't sound sincere, even though Midorima was sure they were.

— But what was he complaining about? This was what he wanted, was it not? He wanted to be cared for, and he wanted to be surrounded by people. If that was the case, then why was he questioning their help?

He knew why: it felt like they were here mostly because of their _job_, and only partially for _him_.

"Can I start?"

Jerking out of his thoughts, he focused on the figures milling around him. Aomine and Kagami, though childish a few moments ago, were now peering at him with intent. Kuroko, off to the side, stood placid, and to his right was the nurse. Deciding not to dwell on the ideas that passed through his head, Midorima cleared his throat and spoke up. "Go ahead."

Kagami moved accordingly; pulling up a chair, he sat down and removed a notepad from his coat pocket. As he did so, Aomine folded his arms over his chest and stayed silent. It was then Midorima could observe how mature the latter had become. If he wasn't mistaken, it had been nearly five years since he last saw the other; of course, he had heard updates about him via Kuroko, Kise, and Momoi, but work set them apart. Though it had been five years, it still amazed him how Aomine had changed. Given, he hadn't seen much, but from the last couple of minutes, he could very well judge that his former classmate had finally embraced adulthood. And that, he supposed, made him feel a bit more relaxed.

"All right. I know it's hard to remember everything, but tell us everything we need to know. Every little detail will help." When Midorima nodded to this, Kagami continued. "Do you know the approximate time this happened?"

"It was after six-fifteen and before seven." He pushed his glasses up after answering and waited for Kagami to finish scribbling.

"Can you describe exactly what happened?"

"Be more specific."

"What were you doing at this time?"

"Walking to work."

Kagami shared a look with Aomine before writing this detail down. From expression alone, Midorima could tell the other wasn't satisfied with his answer — but what more could he say? That was exactly what he was doing at the time.

"Describe your attacker — his appearance, his voice, and everything else you can remember."

For a moment, his mind went blank. He groped for the image of the man, but he couldn't remember significant details. With that one glance over his shoulder, he had captured the sight of dark hair — and that was it.

"I didn't get a good look at him, but he had dark hair, light skin." Pausing for a moment, he closed his eyes. The thought of the attack sent chills down his spine, but what he feared most were the words. "He had a rough voice. I wouldn't say older than thirty."

"What did he say?"

— _my toy_.

— _playing with my toy_.

_You've been playing with my toy_.

"I can't remember."

The detective dampened his chapped lips before proceeding. "Do you have or have you had any relations that would've caused this?"

A nudging feeling urged him to say Takao, but something else held him back. At this point, he didn't have any proof that Takao was involved in this, and he wasn't willing to get the other in trouble for something he wasn't apart of. — But what if Takao did play a part in it? What if, _somehow_, Takao was connected to his attacker? _You've been playing with my toy_. Something like that was crucial to finding out who his assaulter was. The question was whether or not he should tell the two. Yes, it was to his benefit, but at the same time, he felt inclined to keep quiet. Midorima wasn't one to make enemies; a few people disliked him and vice versa, but dislike was all to their relationship. His attacker, on the other hand, had something against him, and conscience told him it involved Takao.

"Not everyone agrees with me, but I don't have enemies."

This time, Kagami didn't bother jotting his response down; rather, he pressed on. "Are you positive? You seemed deep in thought."

"I'm certain."

Immediately following his answer, Kuroko cleared his throat and spoke up. "Aomine-kun, I would like to have a word with you, if you don't mind."

Aomine glanced from the speaker to his partner, and after getting approval from Kagami, he moved over to Kuroko, who, in turn, led him out of the hospital room. Such action perked Midorima's curiosity, but with Kagami firing questions at him, it was difficult to pry on what Aomine and Kuroko were talking about.

"Will you be able to identify this man if we were to show you pictures?"

"I can't guarantee it."

As Kagami continued asking about specific details of what had happened, Midorima found himself answering in a robotic manner. Question after question, the scene began piecing together in his head, creating a clearer image of the crime. He could see the blood on his hands, and he could feel the overwhelming sensation of being on the edge of life. Not many things scared him, since he had seen almost everything due to his work, but something like this — it frightened him. He had no control; he felt weak, _defenseless_ — and that truly scared him.

"Was there a reason why you didn't run away?"

By now, Aomine and Kuroko had returned, but Midorima didn't bother paying them any attention.

"No."

"Could you have defended yourself?"

"Given the situation, I suppose not."

"Then, why didn't you run? You said you knew someone was following you, and that it was rare for you to see people walking on this road."

_You're not telling me something_ was what Midorima was sure Kagami wanted to say. _Either that, or you're lying_.

"Midorima." This time, it wasn't Kagami speaking but Aomine. "We found a pocketknife in your possession. Would you like to explain that?"

_Oh_.

"I carry it for self-protection."

"So you were expecting to be attacked?" Kagami piped up, taking over his role as the questioner. "Your story doesn't tie together. You said you don't have any enemies, then why were you carrying around a pocketknife?"

Midorima opened his mouth to answer, but after realizing how fragile the situation was, he closed it. He knew he had left out essential parts to the case, but at this moment, saying any more than he _had_ to would jeopardize the trust Kagami had in him. The detective was already dismayed by how the story wasn't connecting, and something like that made him feel as if _he_ was the criminal here.

"Is there something you're not telling us?" Though it was barely there, Midorima could detect the hint of disappointment in Aomine's tone. "We're trying to get to the bottom of this, and we can only do so if you cooperate with us."

"I —" What could he say? How could he explain himself without giving out unnecessary details? "Crime rate is high. Like I said before, I carry it for self-protection purposes."

They didn't look convinced at all — and Kagami, well, _Kagami_ was practically boiling.

"What is it you're not telling us?"

"Kagami —" Aomine began, but his warning tone didn't carry far.

"Tell us!"

"Calm down!" Aomine — clearly the more sensible one out of the two — hissed, grabbing his partner by the arm. "Are you out of your fucking mind? If he's not telling us, then there's a reason for it." After these words, he turned to Midorima. "Sorry for this idiot's behavior. He's new to all of this, but don't worry. He's uh ... he's good at his job." That, Midorima couldn't deny.

Kagami huffed, and in response, Aomine decided it was his turn to take over.

"Is there anything else you'd want to tell us?"

This time, Midorima didn't bother replying verbally; he shook his head, indicating he wanted to be left alone, and thankfully, Aomine managed to catch onto his message.

"We'll be back as soon as we have something to report. Thank you for your cooperation." Aomine then slapped Kagami's back and pushed him toward the bed Midorima was resting in. "Apologize, idiot."

"Don't call me an idiot, you asshole!" Though the detective was seething, he managed to turn to Midorima to utter a word of apology. Such, in Midorima's opinion, was a pathetic excuse for one, but Aomine deemed it fitting.

With a parting promise to find his attacker, Aomine and Kagami finally turned on their heels and left. That didn't, however, ease him. When his gaze turned to Kuroko, he found the other peering at him, as if urging him to tell everything.

He wanted to report his suspicions, but Kuroko wasn't the one he wanted to tell. If Momoi were here, perhaps he could voice his thoughts. She was, after all, the closest one to Takao besides himself.

Tearing his sights away, Midorima leaned back onto the pillow and shut his eyes. He didn't want to think about this; a headache was fast approaching, and if he continued pondering over this subject, he would be sporting a migraine.

— x — o — x —

"Do any of these people look like your attacker?"

Midorima peered at the stack of photos he was handed a moment ago. The top one was of a middle-aged man, perhaps no older than forty, and he appeared to fit the description of his attacker perfectly. — But it wasn't this one. Though Midorima didn't get a good look at his assaulter, he had a feeling this man wasn't the culprit.

The second photo was of a male teenager. His hair was deranged, and he had a lopsided smile — again, Midorima couldn't bring himself to accuse this one.

A young female was in the third picture, and he automatically dismissed her as a suspect. He was certain that his attacker had been a male — unless she had some sort of voice alteration? No — _no_. It was definitely not her.

The fourth was — Takao.

At first, he questioned his eyesight — was this really Takao, or was he just seeing things? Dark hair, sharp gray eyes, and a wide smile — this was definitely Takao. Or, at least, a younger version of him. His hair was shorter, and his face was in the midst of transforming into one of an adult's. Even though this was the case, he still recognized the man in the fourth photo as Takao.

And Kagami did not miss this.

"Is that him?" Kagami nudged Aomine aside so he could have a better look at the suspect Midorima was analyzing.

It was then Midorima realized his mistake for dwelling on this particular photo. "No," he answered, his tone cold to emphasize that Takao was not the man they were looking for.

Shuffling the fourth picture to the back, his eyes landed on the fifth suspect. This one appeared to be Takao's age, give or take a few years. His eyes were narrow, unnerving; his strong jaw accented his overall presentation; and his lips were curled into a taunting smile. Such expression made Midorima quiver, and it didn't help when the words '_You've been playing with my toy_' began repeating in his head.

_This was him_.

His attacker.

Aside from the similar physical traits, there was no other proof that this man had actually committed the crime. — But his stomach was curling, and his heart was picking up speed; his body was reacting on its own after seeing this suspect.

_This was him_.

There was no denying it.

— But what if it wasn't him? What if he accused someone innocent?

Midorima covered this suspect's face with the other photos and handed them over to Kagami, who immediately set on shuffling through them. While Kagami ordered the pictures, Midorima glanced down and noticed his trembling hands — another aspect of his body reacting on its own. It was as if he was subconsciously feeling fear.

The question was, though, whether he was fearing the fifth suspect or not. Logic told him that his body was reacting like this simply because he _almost_ got Takao in trouble. If logic was right, then the man in the last photo was innocent.

Still, it bothered him.

"Are none of these your attackers?"

At the sound of the detective's voice, Midorima snapped out of his thoughts. With one glimpse, he saw Kagami holding the last two photos on top of the stack. They had been purposely put there to instigate his reaction; this, Midorima knew much too well.

"Well?"

_The fifth one_. It's the fifth one. _Say the fifth_. Fifth, _fifth_ —

"None of them."

Something cold curled around his chest the moment he uttered this phrase. The sensation was far from relief, and this made him squirm out of discomfort.

"All right. Thank you for your cooperation." Kagami elbowed Aomine, and the two started out. But before they could reach the door, Midorima's mouth was moving.

"Wait."

The two halted and turned around.

"It's the fifth one."

His mind was a blur, and though he willed himself to think logically, his conscience spoke for him. "My attacker is the man in the fifth photo."

Aomine and Kagami shared a look before focusing their attention back on him. "Thank you." This time, it was Aomine who spoke up, and unlike before, his words were coated with sincerity. There wasn't any more, though. After that brief message, the detective and officer reverted their heels and headed out.

It was then Midorima started to regret.

— _What had he done_?

— x — o — x —

They said he was a walking miracle. Though his head had been injured, it didn't cause any significant damage to his brain; the only deterioration was to his left leg, and even that wasn't serious enough to cripple him. He could be wrong, but the morning of his attack, Midorima couldn't remember watching Oha-Asa or carrying a lucky item. If he had done so accordingly, then would he have gotten attacked? That was his pessimistic side speaking. Now, thinking back on the event, though he didn't have his daily lucky item with him, he wasn't beaten to the brink of death. Yes, he had passed out, but he was miraculously saved from any brain injuries — and that, he believed, was _true_ luck.

Ever since he was young, he was convinced that everything followed a path — that everything had a certain destiny. Whenever good things happened, he figured it was the work of fate and didn't bother appreciating it. As he grew older, this began to change, and two weeks ago, when he was attacked, it changed completely. Yes, perhaps it was fate, but now, he could say that he _appreciated_ being saved — that he _appreciated_ being here alive and well. But one of the things he was most appreciative about was Kuroko.

During his time at the hospital, there hadn't been a day in which Kuroko wasn't around. Midorima questioned this, and the only answer Kuroko provided was that Momoi had the clinic under control. Such answer derived from the initial topic, but nevertheless, he didn't push it.

Kuroko was ... different, he could say. His motives had always been unclear (no matter how blunt he was), and this irked Midorima. He wanted to know _why_ Kuroko was here. If there was someone that was assigned to look after him, he would've expected Momoi or perhaps Kise — but Kuroko? They never got along, and to this day, they still didn't get along.

But that didn't mean he couldn't _appreciate_ Kuroko being here.

Though his co-worker didn't say much most of the time (he would usually spend his time reading), Midorima liked the company. It gave him the illusion that someone actually cared about him enough to stay by his side for so long.

"Thank you."

They were walking to his house from the taxi when he said this.

At first, he fretted over what he could say if Kuroko were to ask him '_what for_', but fortunately, the other caught on fairly quick.

"It wasn't a problem."

By now, they were standing at the foot of the door. Midorima hesitated to go in, and Kuroko seemed hesitant to draw away. Silence continued to hang over them. He felt as if he should say something more — but what could he say?

In the end, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. Kuroko remained unmoved.

"Come in."

And Kuroko did.

After slipping off his shoes and shutting the door, Midorima proceeded to lead Kuroko into the kitchen. As he did so, he took the atmosphere of his home in.

It felt different. Though nothing had changed appearance-wise, there was a sense of deprivation; then again, that was expected, since he hadn't touched this place in two weeks. Still, he supposed it was nice to be home, even though it meant not being surrounded by people.

"Nice place," Kuroko commented, stepping up next to him.

He opened his mouth to say a word of thanks in response to the compliment, but when nothing came out, he sealed his lips and decided to stay silent. This, he noticed, didn't have any affect on Kuroko, who pulled out a chair — _Takao's chair_ — and sat down.

For a moment, Midorima was inclined to ask him to switch seats, but knowing that he would have to explain himself, he went against the temptation. Instead, he turned away.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Water's fine."

As seconds ticked by, the uncomfortable silence settled over them once more, and he began to regret inviting Kuroko in. There was nothing they could talk about aside from work, and he was sure they had that topic covered over the time he had been in the hospital.

— No.

There was one thing they hadn't discussed.

Setting the glass of water down in front of Kuroko, Midorima turned to his own seat and sat down. From there, he rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward.

"That time you pulled Aomine away to talk to him ... did it have anything to do with me?"

Kuroko didn't answer right away; rather, he took a sip of the water, brought the cup down, then changed his mind and took another sip. When the bottom of the glass finally touched the table, he spoke up.

"It did."

Midorima feared that answer.

"What were you talking to him about?"

"Takao."

Somehow, he simply knew that.

"What did you tell him?"

He could see that Kuroko was growing nervous, for his fingers were restless. Midorima, himself, was uneasy. He had a feeling that Kuroko wasn't too fond of Takao; add in Takao looking like the attacker he described, and —

"I told him about my suspicions."

Midorima reacted before he could even process the information. In one swift movement, he pushed the chair back and rose to his feet. His hands, once motionless, were now pressed palm down onto the table. He leered forward, and though he didn't have a mirror to prove it, his expression was distorted from its usual calm state.

"It wasn't Takao."

Kuroko remained silent.

"Takao doesn't have anything to do with this. Do you understand? He's innocent."

His eyes flickered down for a second to watch Kuroko's fingers flex around the cup.

"Why are you eager to defend him?" his guest questioned a moment later.

This question stumped him. As his anger began slipping away, Midorima eased back into his seat. _Why_ was he eager to defend Takao? That was something he never thought of before. Was it — _could it_ be out of pity? But what sort of pity did he have for someone potentially dangerous? Takao wasn't a child anymore, and a month of being with him proved this statement true. And if that was the case, then why — ?

He shouldn't care this much for someone he had known for a couple of weeks. He shouldn't be this attached to a stranger.

_Stranger_.

Takao was a _stranger_.

He had argued with Momoi, insisting that he knew Takao better — but did he really? What did he know besides Takao's character and name?

Absolutely nothing.

So why was he defending him?

"You don't usually carry around a pocketknife, do you?" Kuroko removed his hands from the cup and strung his fingers together. "I find it odd that you do now."

He knew ideas were beginning to unfold in Kuroko's mind, and though they were probably right, they were, at the same time, wrong.

"I carry it for protection."

"From what? Do you expect to use it on your patients?"

Kuroko was definitely onto something. Midorima wanted to end the conversation here and now, but he knew that this matter was something he had to sort out for his sake and Takao's.

"No. It ... was a parting gift from Takao."

"You're lying." The moment he heard these words, he flinched. They, for some reason, troubled him. "The story you're telling doesn't make sense. A couple of weeks ago, you told me that you kicked him out. Why would he give you a parting gift?"

Kuroko shifted and leaned forward, and once again, Midorima could read his expression — it was the only expression he could read: _disappointmen_t.

"I might not be as bright as you academic wise, but I know a lie when I hear one. Same goes for Aomine-kun and Kagami-kun." After saying this, he rose to his feet. "If you want to be a good liar, I suggest taking lessons from Takao. He seems to have that skill mastered." Kuroko then pushed in the chair and offered a slight bow. "Until you're ready to tell me the truth, I won't press this matter." Straightening up, he met Midorima's gaze one last time before heading toward the door.

Midorima wanted to say something — perhaps an excuse — but he knew anything he _wanted_ to say would be futile.

The door opened and closed, and after that, he sat in silence. He didn't move from his current stance for a good amount of time, and when he decided to, all he did was rest his forehead in the palms of his hands.

A headache was starting up again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Warning:** MENTIONS OF DUB-CON  
**Disclaimer:** not mine obv  
**Author's Note:** ughuu, sorry for the extremely late update. new semester means new classes, and they're killing me s obs. but anyways! i hope this longish chapter makes up for the delayed update. annnd, hm, oh! i know i shouldn't be taking up another project, but i'm in the process of writing an obsessive! mido x co-obsessive! takao fic. aside from that, there will probably be three or four more chapters of hammer and nail, and yep. that's about it. please enjoy this chapter! (-:

* * *

Girls were never a big part of his life. Sure, he had dated a few, but he couldn't remember the last time he was close to one. Needless to say, he liked Momoi's company. She, unlike everyone else he had been around, was easy-going and more accepting. From the first time they met, she made him feel welcomed, and he appreciated that. Momoi had one flaw, though, and that was her inability to lie.

Over the last week, she hadn't uttered Midorima's name once, and when he pointed this out, she began to fidget. Naturally, he asked if Midorima was okay, and she replied with a hesitant "he's fine." And from that alone, Takao judged that something _had_ happened to his previous host.

"What happened to him?"

Momoi chewed on her lower lip and diverted her eyes. It was apparent to him that she didn't want to tell **—** or if she did, then it was hard to tell. Whichever one it was, Takao felt himself tense up. His fingers, which were once drumming against the table, were now balled into twin fists.

"Tell me."

"He ... was attacked." Her eyes found his quickly. "But he's not severely injured! He's actually doing much better!"

Though she tried to back up her first statement with reassuring claims, Takao couldn't process anything but "he was attacked."

_Midorima had been attacked_.

It was his fault. If he hadn't left, Midorima wouldn't be in this state **—** but leaving was inevitable; he couldn't have stayed with the other no matter how much he wanted.

Lips pressed into a firm line, he stood up.

Momoi's expression immediately changed from hesitation to concern. "Takao **—** ?"

He knew who did this.

There was only one person.

"Takao? Where are you going?"

Momoi was someone who was always light-hearted and cheerful; to hear her worrisome tone made his stomach curl with guilt **—** but he couldn't dwell on that feeling now. He had business to take care of.

"Takao!"

He slammed the door behind him.

He couldn't tell Momoi what he was going to do, but as bright as she was, she would figure it sooner or later. (He could only hope _later_, for he didn't want to deal with her trying to reason.)

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Takao began to walk. At first, his steps were brisk, but after some time, he slowed to a stride.

He didn't have any weapons on him. Given, he had two angry fists, but was that enough? His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to play out what could happen. Strength-wise, he would lose. Plan-wise, perhaps not.

Whatever he did, he needed to send a clear message that he was done with this bullshit.

He wanted to protect Midorima. Everything he did **—** everything he sacrificed over the last month was to keep Midorima out of trouble.

But the bastard struck anyway.

Takao knew it was bound to happen, but at the same time, he didn't think the other was stupid enough to attack.

That was where he went wrong.

And that nearly cost Midorima his entire future.

Gritting his teeth, he began picking up his pace once more.

Midorima wasn't particularly precious to him, but he _did_ save him during the time he most needed saving. That day, he was on the brink of death **—** starving, cold, and sick **—** if it hadn't been for Midorima, he wouldn't be here today.

He owed him his life.

— **x — o — x —**

He hated this place. He had once found comfort in it, but that was at the beginning of college; presently, it was just a place that fueled him with hatred.

With his shoulders squared and his entire body rigid, Takao stared at the door. He remembered the first time he came here. It was after a college party, and his partner was kissing down his neck. They were both drunk at the time. The experience had been sensual, though, which was much different than the last time he came around.

Now, he was back, and this time, with another different intention.

First time, he was here for sex.

Last time, he was here for shelter.

This time, he was here for revenge.

And he wasn't backing out now.

Raising a hand, Takao went to knock **—** but then paused. His hand was shaking, and he couldn't stop. The more he looked at it, the more his insides flipped.

He couldn't do this **—**

He should turn around and run far, far away.

He couldn't do this **—**

_He couldn't_ **—**

He had to.

There was no way he was letting this bastard get away.

(But why was he hesitating? Why were his nerves turning him into a trembling mess?)

He could be a coward and flee, but he would be dissatisfied. The bastard might as well get arrested, but that wasn't good enough. He wanted to punch him, he wanted to kick him to the ground, he wanted to hear him fucking _beg_.

His fist hit the door once, and that simple action had regret surging through him. He did not **—** absolutely did _not_ **—** want to see the other. His horror was conflicting with his anger, and he was torn between staying rooted in place and running away.

If he wanted to guarantee his safety, he would have to start walking away _now_. If he wanted to guarantee a chance of being beaten to the ground, he would have to stay.

Which mattered more: his well being or his pride?

His pride.

That was one thing every man would agree with. He had worked hard to gain a proper image of himself, and this wasn't the time to throw it away.

— But hadn't he already thrown it away? Hadn't he gotten rid of it the moment he fell on his knees and submitted to another man, and not because of choice, but because that was all he could do?

His well-being, then.

For the past month, he had struggled with living. Before, common necessities weren't a problem, but out in the streets? He fought harder to keep breathing than to keep his pride.

Yes, his well-being mattered more.

He lived for twenty-six years. It would be a shame to throw himself away.

With that thought overriding the other, Takao began pulling back. His movements were slow as a response to his conflicting thoughts. Yet, once he managed to turn around and step off the porch, he was on his way out.

He didn't get far, though.

After a couple of steps, his ears perked to the sound of a door opening. He wanted to take off **—** to flee and never look back **—** but he _couldn't_.

"Hey, hey. Look who it is."

The voice sickened him; the taunting tone wrapped its invisible fingers around his throat, threatening to suffocate him; the easy drawl clouded his perception and judgment, making it impossible to think; and furthermore, the sound **—** the mere _sound_ **—** of it paralyzed him. His thoughts were stiff, his complexion stiffer; he couldn't function.

"Did ya want something from me?"

_No_.

No, he did not.

"Oi, what're you walking away for? Why don't you come in for a cup of tea? Let's talk."

No.

_No_.

"Hah, I know what this is about."

Takao froze in his step.

"It's about your boy, isn't it? Doctor Faggot or somethin' like that?"

He cherished his well-being. His pride didn't matter. He needed to walk away. He needed to turn a deaf ear. He needed to get out of here before **—** before **—**

"How is he? Better? Worse? ... Dead?"

— _Before he snapped_.

Blinded by anger, Takao couldn't even process what he wanted to do; his body acted on its own accord. One moment, he was rooted in place; the next, he was on the doorstep, face to face with the one person that made his blood boil and freeze at the same time.

He could barely see through his fit of rage, but one glance was all he needed.

The other didn't look any different from last time. His dark hair was still in cornrows, and he still had that lopsided smirk that infuriated Takao.

And looking at it now only added fuel to his blazing fire.

"What, you looking for a fight?"

Takao took that as an invitation. Reaching out, he yanked him in by the collar. Disgust wasn't even on his mind as he drew him close. It was just rage **—** pure, pure rage.

"C'mon. Don't be a pussy."

His grip tightened on the fabric at the sound of these words. Not only was his pride (or what was left of it) being toyed with, but he wasn't being taken seriously. Eyes flickering with anger, Takao shoved him back into the house and kicked the door close behind him.

He wanted to spill blood.

He wanted to draw pain.

He wanted to fucking _murder_.

Without thought, without hesitation, Takao fist the other's shirt and shoved him against the wall.

"We had an agreement," he hissed.

"We did?" Though the words questioned the other's memory, the mocking tone refuted its meaning.

"You said you wouldn't touch him if I sucked you off."

The man tilted his head back and laughed.

Takao scowled. "You're sick."

"Says the cocksucker."

He couldn't help himself. The moment he heard these words, he raised a fist and drove it at the other's face. It was dodged, and the next thing he knew, he was the one pinned against the wall.

With a strong hand holding him flat against the cool surface, he could barely breathe. But that didn't mean he couldn't hear the foul words.

"Did you suck his, too? Did you wrap your mouth around his dick and take him all the way down?" No matter how much Takao squirmed, he couldn't move from the firm grip. "Did you let him fuck you yet?"

"Shut up," Takao growled.

Snorting, he pressed in. "Slut," he whispered, his warm breath ticking Takao's ear.

A hand began snaking downward, brushing along his hip before dipping down to tease the zipper of his pants.

"Don't **—** touch me."

The hand didn't stop.

"I said don't touch me!" His blood was pumping, and his heart was pounding as he fought to push away. When given a leeway, he broke free and stumbled a couple of paces back. He couldn't hear what the other was saying, and he couldn't even hear what _he_ was saying, but he knew he said something along the lines of "You're fucking disgusting, Haizaki."

— **x — o — x —**

His fuse had gone out. After packing a punch that sent Haizaki down cradling his bloody nose, he decided to leave. The blinding anger he once had had faded after seeing the other's blood, and fear replaced it. Haizaki was a violent person **—** perhaps the most violent he'd met **—** and he knew that, if he were to stick around to throw a few more punches, he would end up in the hospital **—** or worse in a grave (on a lighter note, it amazed him how he managed to get out with a busted lip and a bruised shoulder). So he made the decision to leave.

To say that he was satisfied with the outcome was an understatement. He wanted to do _much_ more to Haizaki in acts of revenge, but one hard swing of his fist justified the reason why he was there.

(Or did it?)

When confronted by rage, he wasn't sure if he was reacting violently for Midorima or for himself. Intentionally, it had been for Midorima **—** but Haizaki's taunting words pushed him to lose control.

Gritting his teeth, Takao shoved his hands into his pockets and quickened his pace. Though most of his anger was gone, the mere thought of Haizaki made his insides curl with distaste.

Then again, he did confront the other, and that was ... well, that was another step forward.

Tilting his head back, he let out a breath.

How did he get to this point? In his ideal life, he would probably be in law school at this age. But shit happened **—** shit _really_ happened **—** and now, he couldn't see a future for himself.

At one point, he had everything planned out. He was going to graduate, go to college, find a job and a wife, marry, have kids, and just settle down. But presently, all of those things were out of his grasp. How could he have such a perfect future when he was at the bottom of the social chain?

_No_.

Perhaps he wasn't exactly at the bottom.

Unlike some others, he had someone he looked up to, and that person was Midorima. It wasn't because Midorima was a doctor nor was it because Midorima had a soft heart; rather, it was because he was suffering, and yet, he kept going. That was one of the reasons why Takao respected him.

Midorima was a perfect figure. He was intelligent, attractive, and he had his entire future in front of him. He had everything, but at the same time, he had nothing. From what he had observed, Takao could see that Midorima was lacking one essential aspect to living: love.

He had known this since the beginning, and it pained him to remember that he took advantage of Midorima's loneliness. By being there, he was providing company; by engaging in sexual activities, he was providing the perception that he wanted to be with Midorima (when in reality, at that time, he _needed_ to be with him).

Given, he had grown attached, and soon, he found himself in Midorima's place; he yearned for attention, for company, for love. And Midorima gave him that. Though the love was never voiced, knowing that the other cared was enough for him.

— But did Midorima really care for him?

Momoi told him about Midorima's state after he had kicked him out. According to her, Midorima had closed himself off; he spoke less, felt less, and cared less.

_Betrayed_.

That was how Momoi described him.

_Takao betrayed him_. That was what Midorima thought, and Takao could see why. He was, after all, the one with the pocket knife. Thing was, Midorima didn't even give him a chance to explain.

(And what did that mean?)

It meant Midorima never trusted him.

To think that, after spending a month together, after Takao invested his entire trust in a _stranger_, said stranger didn't trust him.

If he wanted to kill Midorima, he would've done so earlier, right? That made logical sense in his head.

— But there must've been _some_ trust, else he wouldn't have stayed so long.

Just ... what was going through Midorima's mind? He was so simple, yet so complex **—** and that was what made him intriguing.

As he tossed around these thoughts, Takao came to a halt where the streets split. To the right was the direction of Momoi's house; to the left, Midorima's. He took a step to the right, hesitated, then glanced over his shoulder. He knew that, once he stepped foot into Momoi's house, he would be subject to questions. Eventually, he would have to answer them, but not now, not today. On the other hand, if he dropped by Midorima's, would the other want to see him? Better yet, was he even at home **—** what if he was still in the hospital?

Chewing on his lower lip, Takao decided to take the chance. He reverted his step and started in the direction of Midorima's house.

Along the way, he found himself going over what he wanted to say. There wasn't much to tell Midorima **—** well, except, the entire story.

(But did he want to tell him?)

It was hard telling Momoi (but she wouldn't shelter him if he didn't agree to spill), and just thinking about confessing to Midorima agonized him.

He had to do it, though, if he wanted to stay around. At this point, he could no longer hide even if he wanted to. Not to mention, considering everything Midorima had done for him, he deserved to know.

Then again, how would that affect their relationship?

Midorima already resented him for bringing a pocket knife to bed **—** would he even believe him if he told the truth?

It was worth a shot, either way, because he didn't have anything to lose.

Arriving at the doorstep, Takao paused. The place looked ... the same, actually. He expected more of a change **—** but it had only been three or so weeks since he last been here, so he supposed change shouldn't be expected.

Now, it was only a matter of Midorima being home or not. He didn't have work today, so he should be here **—**

Takao knocked.

Then knocked again.

No answer.

That meant one of two things: Midorima was ignoring him or he wasn't home. Though thoughts urged him to accept the first idea, he wanted to believe the latter.

Should he stay and wait? What if Midorima wasn't home because he was still in the hospital?

He could wait for a couple of minutes **—** perhaps an hour. And if Midorima didn't come back by then, he'd go back to Momoi's. Yes, that could work.

Keeping that in mind, Takao sat down on the edge of the porch and began waiting.

Ten minutes.

Twenty.

Thirty.

And then, distantly, he saw a speck of green followed by a speck of light blue. As the two figures drew closer, he made out the second person to be Kuroko.

Kuroko ... what was he doing here? Why was he with Midorima? (What was this, jealousy? He shouldn't be feeling jealous. Kuroko was only Midorima's co-worker **—** and after what had happened, it shouldn't be surprising that Kuroko was accompanying him home.)

But still, Takao didn't like it. Up until three weeks ago, he was always the one walking with Midorima **—** it bothered him to see that he had been, in a sense, replaced.

— What if he really had been replaced, though?

He knew Kuroko was infatuated with Midorima, and considering the situation, Takao wouldn't be surprised if the other used the incident as an excuse to get closer to him. Not to mention, since he spontaneously introduced himself as Midorima's new housemate, Kuroko probably viewed him as competition.

(And perhaps he was competition.)

Brushing away the thought, Takao got to his feet. This simple action stopped the two in their tracks.

— **x — o — x —**

"You didn't have to walk me home," Midorima said, glancing at Kuroko who was walking idly beside him.

"I insist," Kuroko replied, not bothering to spare him a look.

"Hmph."

Though Midorima appeared reluctant to accept company on the way home, he welcomed it. After the incident, he was left in the neverending state of fear. His attacker hadn't been caught yet, so it was possible that he could strike again.

Inwardly shivering at the idea, Midorima picked up his pace. _The faster he got home, the better_.

While his mind was wrapped around that, Kuroko said something. For a moment, Midorima could only comprehend the fact that Kuroko had spoken, but after digging himself out from his pool of thoughts, he replied.

"I suppose it was enjoyable."

Kuroko was silent for a few moments, and then **—** "Would you like to go out for lunch again?"

"I don't have any objections."

Lunch with Kuroko was something decided at the spur of the moment. When out buying his lucky item this morning, he had ran into Kuroko, and after brief discussion, Kuroko invited him to lunch. Having nothing else planned for the day, he accepted.

Conversation was at a bare minimum at first, but once the topic of Takao came up, talk wasn't a problem. Kuroko fully voiced his concerns, and Midorima, though he wanted to, didn't refute any assertions.

That discussion led to multiple other topics, and by time two hours rolled around, he was much engaged in the conversation.

But now, they were back to little talk. Not that Midorima particularly minded; the quiet was nice, the company was even better.

Perhaps he could invite Kuroko in for a cup of tea. It was better than nothing **—**

Except it wasn't _just_ going to be Kuroko.

Looking ahead, he saw something move. A step closer, he saw it was a person; another step, and he saw the face.

It was Takao.

He stopped, and next to him, Kuroko followed suit.

Something began to stir in him. The longer he stared at Takao, the stronger this feeling was. His fingers flexed, and his brow creased.

Kuroko caught onto these significant reactions. "Midorima," he began, his tone warning him to keep calm.

He didn't pay attention to it. His focus was solely on Takao.

He wanted to know.

He wanted to know _everything_.

And to know, Takao had to explain.

There had been days when he turned a blind eye on Takao **—** those were the days when he looked toward the future, those were the days when children were innocent. But standing here? He couldn't avoid it anymore. _Takao was involved_. He wasn't sure when he had finally accepted that, but he did, and now, he wanted answers.

Yet, there was still a dash of fear in him.

He was stubbornly clinging to the thought that Takao was innocent, that he was, in no way, tied to the things that had happened to him.

But how could he deny it anymore?

He needed answers; he needed the _truth_, and the only person that could satsify him right now was Takao.

With that in mind, Midorima took a step toward the other, but before he could take another, he felt a slight tug on his sleeve. Halting, he glanced back. Kuroko's gaze was firm on him, and his eyebrows were drawn together. It was clear that he wanted to say something, but his mouth stayed sealed. Midorima tried walking again, but once more, he was held back.

"What is it?"

Kuroko glanced away for a brief moment, and when he did, another voice piped up.

"Shin-chan ... ?"

Jerking his sights from Kuroko, he focused on the other figure. Takao was walking toward him, but when their eyes met, he stopped. Midorima looked back to Kuroko.

"I'll see you later," he said before attempting to pull away. The grip on his sleeve stayed firm. "Let go."

For a few more seconds, Kuroko stayed quiet. His eyes shifted from the ground, to him, then to the side. After some time, he peered up and steadied his gaze.

"Don't."

_Don't_?

Though he wanted to question it, Midorima knew exactly what Kuroko meant.

He glanced back to the other.

Takao was standing to himself, fondling the tail of his shirt. He didn't appear to have any intentions of leaving, which meant one thing: he wanted to talk.

Looking back, Midorima wrapped his hand around Kuroko's wrist and pried his grip off.

"Not this time." He dropped his hold and turned to face Takao. As he started walking, he hoped to whatever deity there was that he was making the right choice.

Takao greeted him with a small smile. For a second, Midorima's gaze lingered on the slight curve of the other's lips, but after remembering the actual reason why he was here, he brushed past him and proceeded to unlock the door.

"Come in."

Takao complied.

While Midorima slipped off his shoes, he noted the other's movements around the room. When he glanced up, he saw that Takao was inspecting a wilted plant. That had been his lucky item before the incident, and because he was at the hospital for nearly two weeks, he didn't have a chance to water it. He had hoped that, with some water and sunlight, it would be all right, but what was the point of trying to help something that was already dead?

He shifted toward the kitchen in hopes of escaping a comment, but of course, Takao didn't allow him this luxury.

"This wasn't here before." There was a brief pause, and then **—** "You rearranged everything."

That, he did, and he wasn't sure why. One day, he decided he was sick of seeing this layout, and so he moved things around. Given, it wasn't a huge change, but evidently, it was big enough for Takao to notice.

But that was beside the point.

He was here for answers, and Takao was going to provide him with some.

"We need to talk." As Midorima said this, he pulled out a chair and sat down. His company followed suit. "I want explanations."

Takao's eyes fell on the table. "What do you want to know?" His voice, unlike before, was soft.

"Everything."

The fingers that were drumming nervously against the surface drew together. A breath was let out and eyes fluttered close. "Your attacker **—** his name is Haizaki Shougo."

"How did you know?"

"Momoi told me, and I kinda figured that it was him."

Midorima folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his seat. "You stayed in contact?"

"I lived with her."

_Oh_.

That made sense.

"She only let me in after I told her everything." Takao's thumb slid over his finger as he said this. "Took it better than I expected." He then fell silent.

Again, Midorima's stomach was curling, and the familiar feeling of jealousy was beginning to make way. He tried to suppress it, but when he spoke, he couldn't hide the tone in his voice.

"Well, are you going to tell me?"

Takao glanced up, met his eyes briefly, then looked off. "Mom left and took my sister with her. The old man started drinking." He paused, shifted, then continued. "I managed to get into college, and I met Haizaki there **—** I told you about him before, remember? After awhile, I had to drop out to take care of the old man. We were okay for a bit, and then he just ... said he didn't want to see me anymore, so I left."

As Takao gathered his composure, Midorima leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. What the other was telling him sounded like a well rehearsed story **—** but at the same time, he wanted to believe it. He simply couldn't grasp the concept that Takao may be a bad person. Since their first meeting, he saw Takao as a child **—** a grown child who was stripped from innocence and given reality.

_Just like him_.

"I knew Haizaki lived nearby, so I went there."

_Haizaki_. That was the name of Takao's first male partner. That was also the name of his attacker.

"He let you stay?"

"For sex."

Midorima's brow creased at this.

"But then he started getting violent, so I left. Sometime later, you found me."

Takao peered up at him as if asking for a response; he didn't get one.

With his lips pressed into a firm line and his hand clenched into a fist, Midorima ran over the details of Takao's story. To an extent, he supposed it made sense; it did, after all, explain why Takao was out on streets. It also proposed a solution as to why he was attacked.

— But was that all there was to it?

Was all of this the reason for Takao's behavior?

... Perhaps.

Perhaps it did explain why Takao acted in certain ways.

He sat up and met the other's gaze.

"That time when you ... wanted to thank me ... did he make you **—**"

"I didn't have a choice. It was either that or the streets."

"Did you **—**" Midorima cleared his throat. "**—** on the streets, did you **—**"

Takao scoffed and leaned back in his seat. "I didn't stoop that low," and in a soft voice, he said, "but I would've if you didn't find me that day."

The mere thought of Takao performing such acts pained him. To think that someone like him **—** someone who was probably once happy **—** was a slave to misery. Life was really cruel, wasn't it?

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

For a second, he hesitated. "I ... knew he was going to come after you because of me. He's not the type to let go." Takao bit his lower lip. "The first time you sent me out to buy your lucky item, I also bought a pocket knife."

Quicker than the other could explain, the entire scene began unfolding in Midorima's head, and everything started piecing together.

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

Takao let out a shaky breath. "I needed a place to stay."

His fists slowly unclenched. "Were you planning to use the pocket knife against him?"

"Why else would I buy it for?"

"Why didn't you use it on the day you came home with a black eye?"

It was nothing but a guess, but he was fairly certain that this Haizaki person was the one who caused it.

"He ... we made a deal that morning."

Already, Midorima didn't like where this was going.

"A deal?"

"He promised to stay away from you if I ..."

"If you what?"

"If I sucked him off."

He couldn't take it. Pushing the chair back, Midorima rose to his feet. He knew it was a bad idea to pry into the other's background, and yet his desire to know was overwhelming. And this **—** this was the effect.

Drawing in a breath, he turned away. He needed to get out. He needed fresh air and time to think.

But again, Takao didn't allow him to do that.

He heard the chair scoot back, and he felt a hand grab his arm, but he didn't flinch; he didn't even move. He simply stood there, dismayed, shocked **—** and hurt.

And he wasn't exactly sure why he felt hurt. What Takao did was, in a sense, an act of survival. Then why was his chest tightening? Why was he getting angry?

(Was it because Takao betrayed him?)

He gritted his teeth.

He was truly something to think that the relationship they had was more than acquaintances. To Takao, he provided shelter, food, and clothes. In return, he got company.

_Heh_.

Now that he really focused on it, he was pathetic. He wasted so much time on someone that only needed him for those three things. What was he expecting, though? Was he expecting Takao to stay with him?

_No_.

He didn't expect that.

But he did want something more out of the other.

"I'm sorry."

The hand left his arm, and he felt Takao drawing away from him.

_Not again_.

Reaching out, Midorima grabbed Takao's wrist, halting him in his step. No words were traded as he drew him in.

Takao's eyes were wide, hopeful almost, but that wasn't what Midorima focused on. When he had briefly skimmed his company's face, his attention landed on the bruised lip. Of course, he had noticed this before, but it wasn't until now that he could see just how battered it was. Without a thought, Midorima brushed his thumb along Takao's lower lip, and in response, Takao flinched.

"Did he do this to you?" He stilled his movements.

"It doesn't hurt."

Midorima's fingers danced along the lips once more before sliding down to cup Takao's chin. "Did he hurt you anywhere else?" he questioned.

"No."

Hearing this, he released his grip. "I'll get you some ice."

As he moved to do so, there came a knock at the door. That was strange. Who would be visiting him at this time **—** ? Kuroko? Holding to that thought, he headed toward the entrance and opened the door. When his sights landed on the three policemen, he knew something was wrong. What made it worse was that Aomine was one of them.

"Is Takao here?" Aomine asked, tilting his head up slightly to look over Midorima's shoulder. Instead of answering, Midorima shifted to block his view. Apparently, this wasn't the right action to take as evident when the three pushed past him.

They were quick to surround Takao, and even quicker to bring him to the ground. As handcuffs were pulled out, Midorima moved toward the group in hopes of helping Takao. He was, however, intercepted by Aomine's arm.

"Stand back, Midorima."

_Stand back_?

"What the hell did you do, Takao?"

"I didn't do anything!"

Whether or not he did, Midorima didn't get an explanation; Takao was jerked upward and pushed outside. He shifted to help, but again, Aomine kept him in place.

"You have the wrong person. He's inno**—**"

"We're only bringing him in for questioning."

Bewildered, Midorima's gaze switched from the officer to Takao, who was being shoved into the backseat of a police car.

"Let him go! He has nothing to**—**"

"Midorima," Aomine said, his voice firm, "let us take care of this. _Back off_."

"Takao's not involved," he persisted. "I'll testify if needed."

Aomine skimmed his face for a moment before pulling away. "I'll contact you if we need your testimony." And with that, he and the other officer left.

As he slowly came to accept his helplessness, Midorima resorted to watching the officers get into their respective cars. When they began pulling away, he could only wonder how they knew Takao was here. It didn't take him long to figure it out.

There was a movement in the corner of his eyes, and glancing over, he confirmed his assumption: Kuroko had called them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Warning:** probably inaccurate description of japanese jails and courts ;;;

**Disclaimer:** not mine obv

**Author's Note:** thank you for all the reviews again; you guys are truly precious! u wu

* * *

_Boys would be boys_.

It was a phrase her mother recited whenever her father and his friends would come along and cause a scene. The problem itself didn't lie with the boys, but rather, their actions. Growing up, Momoi learned this best. Boys **—** the majority of them **—** were always off doing things they never thought twice about. It wasn't just her father and his friends either; it was every generation **—** this particular quirk was _evolutionary_, and now, it was present in Midorima and Kuroko.

She heard about what happened over the phone last night. When Takao didn't return, she called Midorima, who told her that Takao had been arrested. That was all the details he gave, and though Momoi wasn't satisfied, she had no choice but to go to bed unknowing.

This morning, Midorima was still in a sour mood, and Kuroko was no better. While Midorima stayed cooped up in his office, Kuroko stayed out of sight. Neither of them, however, stayed out of mind. It was apparent to Momoi that something had happened between the two, and proof of this came with their refusal to communicate with each other ("Can you give this to Midorima-kun?" "Hand this back to Kuroko.").

She wasn't the only one who noticed their strange behavior, though. "Don't you think Midorimacchi and Kurokocchi are acting weird?" Kise set a stack of folders down in front of her before glancing over his shoulder at Midorima. "He's more bitter than ever. Did something happen?"

She followed his gaze for a moment then dropped it to her paperwork. "An argument, I guess."

"An argument?" Kise echoed, drawing his sights back to her. "Over what?"

"I don't know."

Except, she did know, and she knew too well. Midorima and Kuroko never really got along in the first place due to conflicting ideologies, but they had never displayed this much hostility toward each other before. Whatever happened between them took place some time yesterday. She knew this for certain, because they were talking the two day sago. And since yesterday was significant because of Takao's arrest, she correlated the two.

Momoi understood that Kuroko didn't like Takao; she might as well admit to knowing before Midorima and Takao themselves did. At first, she wasn't sure why. Takao was a brilliant man **—** young, but brilliant. Surely someone like him would get along with Kuroko, but that wasn't the case. Whenever Takao was around, Kuroko would avoid him, and when asked why, he simply reported that he "didn't trust him." This was the main reason why she kept her mouth shut about housing Takao.

There were too many secrets **—** the ones she shared with Takao, the ones Takao shared with Midorima, and the ones Midorima shared with her. Kuroko had already penetrated half-way through the walls that stored these secrets, but Kise was oblivious. And she preferred it this way. Having Kuroko involved was too much to deal with; add in Kise, and word would get out.

"Should I talk to him?"

"You can try." Momoi closed one of the folders and set it aside. "He won't talk to me." She needed the details; she needed to know what happened to Takao. **—** And Midorima had the answers; he just wasn't sharing them.

She hated secrets.

"What about Kurokocchi?"

"He's ignoring me too." Momoi shifted a couple of more folders over. "They're acting like children. Both of them." She didn't intend to slap down the files, but the force behind her hand was more powerful than she assumed. "It's frustrating."

"I'll talk to them." Kise peered at Midorima once more.

"They're not going to tell you anything."

"I'll get something out of him, if not Kurokocchi." He turned back to her. "Don't worry. I know how to get around them." He gave her a thumbs up before making his way over to the head doctor.

Momoi sighed as she reverted her attention back to the papers. She was nearly positive that Kise wouldn't get anything out of the two, but there wasn't a point in stopping him.

_Boys would be boys_, after all.

— **x — o — x —**

He didn't understand why his hands were shaking. Was it because of the heavy lights beating down on him, or was it because of the redheaded detective who was staring at him with bloodshot eyes? He was many things, but he wasn't a criminal; he shouldn't be trembling this much.

"Takao?"

He dug his fingernails into his palms when he heard his name.

"Answer the question."

His lips parted for air, but he couldn't breathe. The tense atmosphere was starting to take a toll on his ability to process information, which, of course, didn't help him at all.

"Sorry," he managed to bite out. "What was the question again?" As the detective repeated what he said, Takao's eyes traveled from the crimson gaze to the twin eyebrows. There were ... two of them ... on each eyebrow? He squinted. Was his mind playing tricks on him?

"Takao!"

He jumped and jerked his gaze back down. The other didn't look impressed **—** if anything, he was beginning to show signs of anger, and Takao didn't want that.

"What did you **—**"

"I asked what your relationship was with Midorima Shintarou."

"He's **—**" That was actually a good question. He wasn't exactly a roommate nor was he his guardian. They were more than acquaintances **—** or so he hoped **—** but less than lovers. He supposed the proper word was "**—** a friend."

"Be more specific."

Takao shifted under the steady gaze. "I was in some trouble, and he helped me."

"What kind of trouble?"

He hesitated and averted his gaze. The moment he did this, though, he realized it was the wrong course of action and glanced back. "I, uh **—** it was raining out, and he gave me an umbrella."

His questioner didn't look satisfied. "That's it?"

"Yes ... ?"

"You're making this up."

Though he knew he could defend himself, he decided against doing so. He didn't want to jeopardize the possibility of falling into a trap, even though he knew he was innocent. The best he could do right now was tell bits of the truth; telling too much might indicate that he spent time coming up with a story, and that wasn't what he wanted the other to assume at all.

"How long have you known him?"

"Two months, maybe? I don't know."

"Why were you at his house yesterday?"

The corner of his mouth twitched at the sound of this question. "He invited me in." Of course, there was probably an underlying reason, but whatever it was, he wasn't aware of it.

"He invited a stranger in?"

"I'm not a stranger. I lived with him."

The detective didn't bother jotting this detail down. "That sounds like bullshit."

That was exactly what Takao feared. "It's not, I swear." How many prisoners had sat in this very room, under these overbearing lights, and in the presence of this domineering authoritative figure? _Too many_, he was guessing. And probably half of them, like himself, were innocent.

"You're telling me that a doctor's stupid enough to trust you with his house?"

"He trusted me not to steal."

The man scoffed. "Look, your story's weak. No way in hell am I believing what you're telling me."

"But it's true," Takao pressed, leaning forward in hopes that his eye contact would at least imply that he wasn't lying. "If you ask Mido **—**"

_No_.

Even though Midorima was involved in this in every way possible, he didn't want to bring him in.

"If I ask him what?" He raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

Takao sat back and remained silent.

"So if I were to go question him, would he tell me the same thing?"

He didn't want to complicate things **—** he really didn't **—** but he couldn't stay here. He wasn't a criminal, and he needed Midorima to prove that. **— **Here he was again, relying on Midorima. He pitied his behavior, but what more could he do?

"Yeah."

"I'll talk to him then." The detective stood and gathered up his papers.

Takao stiffened. "Is he here?" His heart began to pound. "Can I see him?"

"Calm down. He's not here, and you're not allowed to speak to him anyway."

Defeated, Takao slumped back into his seat. He supposed it was better that they didn't meet.

As the other walked out, two more came in and led him back to his cell. It was fairly large for a cell (or at least, compared to the ones he had seen on TV), but it did hold five prisoners, including himself, with unclear statuses. Upon return, only one of them acknowledged him.

"How did it go, Twink?"

The bars shut behind him. "Okay, I guess." Takao rubbed the back of his neck before easing into his given space in the cell (they didn't exactly have specified areas, but each guy stayed in their spots and hissed at those who crossed over, so he assumed it was safer to keep his same space). "They didn't believe me."

His cellmate snorted. "'course they don't. Who the hell do you think they are? Those son of bitches do anything to make sure your ass stays in jail." When Takao didn't respond, the man continued, "Took me nearly a month to get out of here last time."

"Last time?"

"I ain't as good as I was back when I was your age, but never mind me. What did you say you did?"

Takao took a glance at the middle-aged man with yellow teeth and a crooked smile. "They think I assaulted someone." He knew he shouldn't have said that when another pair of eyes turned to him. "But I didn't."

"Nah. You did." Yellow Teeth jabbed a thumb in the direction of the space next to one of the other prisoners. "An old man used to sit there. Accused of assault. He insisted that he didn't do it, but y'know what happened?" He slid his thumbnail across his neck. "Guilty as charged."

He didn't want to hear anymore. The thought of being stuck here with these people felt far worse than clamoring to live on the streets. As Yellow Teeth continued randomly about the ghost of a past inmate, Takao drew his knees up and rested his forehead against them. His body was trembling despite the fair temperature of the cell. He needed warmth, he needed comfort. _God damn it_, he needed Midorima.

But he shouldn't **—** _couldn't_ **—** rely on Midorima, because this time, Midorima wasn't going to save him. It was just him, the facts, and the prosecution.

Closing his eyes, he tried to rest, but such task was impossible with a man rambling on a few paces away. He was talking about drugs now **—** something about ecstasy and escape, then something about money and stealing. Whatever the case was, Takao didn't focus until he heard his name **—** or, well, his number.

"Prisoner 610, you have a guest."

_Midorima_ **—** ?

Takao stood and made his way over. The guard stepped to the side and nodded at the guest. "You have ten minutes."

It was his father.

He could barely recognize him. If not for their similar features, he would've thought he was a stranger, but it wasn't; it was his _father_.

"Son."

"What are you doing here?" He couldn't help the bitter end of his question. His father did, after all, disown him.

"I'm just here to see what kind of trouble you've been stirring up again."

_Again_ **—** ?

"I didn't do it." Despite this being their first meeting in months, he didn't want to talk to him. There was much to catch up on, but none that he would willingly tell. His father was no longer apart of his life, so why should he involve him now?

"They said you assaulted someone."

"I didn't do it."

"I know." His father eyed him for a moment before reaching into his pockets and fishing out a note. Before he could slip it between the bars, the guard grabbed his wrist and plucked the piece of paper from his fingertips. "No indirect communication allowed," he said. His father swallowed and turned his attention back on Takao. "I ... wanted to say that I didn't want things to work out like this. When ... if you get out, you're welcome back to the house."

Those words were all that he had ever wanted to hear, but they didn't sound as sweet as he imagined. He wasn't sure if it was the way his father said it or if it was prejudice, but his father didn't sound sincere. The way his eyes flickered around the place, looking everywhere except Takao's own **—** the way he fidgeted and licked his lips out of nervous habit **—** he wasn't afraid of the guard or the jail's atmosphere; he was afraid of rejection.

"Why should I?"

His father rolled his tongue over his lower lip again. "I, uh ... I just want you back, son."

"You didn't file a missing person report."

"I thought **—**"

"You didn't care when I left." His own lips quivered as he said this. "You told me to leave, so I did."

"I didn't mean it."

Takao attempted eye contact, but his father continued to avoid it. Seeing that it was useless, he returned to his spot against the wall.

"Let's talk about this." There was nothing to talk about. No matter how much he wanted to reunite with the man who raised him, he _couldn't_ with the thought that the other didn't even care. His father needed company **—** like him, like Midorima, like everyone else **—** the only difference was that _he_ didn't offer company in return. To Takao, he was dead; the father he once knew no longer existed. "Kazunari, come on."

When Takao remained silent, he gave up and walked off. And that act in itself proved that his father was nothing but words.

As he replayed the scenario in his head with different approaches, the guard called to him again, and this time, handed him the note. "He's not a bad guy."

Takao unfolded the piece of paper and, as he headed back to his space, analyzed the scribbles.

"Daddy issues?" Yellow Teeth asked, leaning over to take a look.

"He's not my dad." Takao crumpled up the note and tossed it to the side where his inmate picked it up.

Whether or not he read it, Takao didn't see; he resumed the position with his knees drawn up, and in that posture, he dwelt on the words his father wrote to him: _I am sorry_, and he couldn't help but think _no, you're not_.

— **x — o — x —**

Yellow Teeth was gone the next morning, and when he asked about this, none of his inmates answered. He supposed it was a good thing, since he didn't have to deal with a nosy person, but at the same time, he lost the one person he had human contact with. The cell felt duller than ever **—** but only for a few hours.

Just after lunch, they received a prisoner to replace Yellow Teeth, and the sight of this man made Takao wish Yellow Teeth had never gone.

"I can't be in the same room as him," Takao said, standing up.

"Gotta deal with it, kid." The guard pushed the newest addition into the cell and closed the door behind him.

Takao didn't sit back down. "What did you do?"

"Everything you didn't do," Haizaki responded, walking over to him. "Why are you here? Did Doctor Faggot finally call the cops on you?"

He looked different from two days ago. There were bandages wrapped around his nose, which, Takao guessed, was thanks to him. His hair was no longer in cornrows and was tied back. He didn't look as intimidating, but past experience was enough to make Takao wary.

"Shut up." He had never been so glad for the chains around his wrists. "Why don't you fess up? I'd like to get out of here."

"Who said I did it?" Haizaki quirked an eyebrow at him to indicate the sincerity of his question, but his soft smirk gave away any sense of ignorance.

Takao frowned. "Don't fuck with me."

Eyes from the other three inmates began turning their way.

"They don't have any proof that I did it."

He refused to believe it. Haizaki wasn't the cleanest person around, and his intelligence didn't exactly measure up either. There must be evidence, and he was trusting the investigators to find said evidence.

"Why did you do it?" Takao's eyes followed Haizaki as he went to sit against an opposite wall. "Are you that sadistic?"

Haizaki tilted his head back and closed his eyes. "He stole something of mine."

His fingers flexed, but instead of storming over and committing acts of violence that would land him a definite spot in prison, Takao sat down.

"He didn't steal anything. I chose to leave." He heard Haizaki scoff, but that was it.

Stifled in silence, Takao continued staring at the other figure. He didn't think someone he once trusted would put him in this position. He didn't think someone he once liked would do something this cruel. But that was how the world worked, wasn't it? His father did it, and Haizaki did it. Though he hoped that Midorima would prove himself different, Takao was beginning to have his doubts.

— **x — o — x —**

"Are you nervous?" Out of the corner of his eyes, Midorima saw Kise peering at him. "This is your first time in court, right?"

It had been a week since he last saw Takao; two days before, he received a call from Kagami, asking if he could be present during trial. He had, without a fleeting thought, accepted. It was only yesterday that he learned that Kise was also going to be there to offer his testimony (he was the one that found him after all). Having someone he knew with him was relaxing to an extent, but he still couldn't deny that he was nervous.

"Make sure to tell the truth."

He wasn't planning to lie in the first place. He knew that Takao was innocent, and that a man named Haizaki Shougo was the perpetrator. Whatever evidence they had should point to the latter.

Closing his eyes, Midorima took in a deep breath. This was more nerve-wrecking than taking the exam that gave him his license to practice medicine.

"If Takao didn't do it, then he didn't do it." He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Relax, Midorimacchi. You're too tense." When he didn't respond, Kise removed his comforting touch and fell silent.

He took another breath and squeezed the die in his hand. It was his lucky item for the day, and according to Oha-Asa, if he kept this with him, his luck would sustain. Having gone a couple of days without listening to Oha-Asa, he realized how childish this ordeal was, but he _needed_ something to believe in since he couldn't believe in himself.

"Mido-chin, Ki-chin. We're ready." He opened his eyes to see a purple-haired officer towering over him. "Follow me."

Kise started after, but Midorima remained in his spot.

The officer looked familiar. Purple-hair, large complexion **—** where had he seen him before? Was he the one with Aomine **—** _no_, that was Kagami, a completely different person. Then who was ... ?

"Midorimacchi?"

Emerging from his thoughts, Midorima caught up with the two and entered the courtroom. It was quiet **—** _too_ quiet, despite how many people were present.

To the rows on his right were three distinct figures. The man sitting behind the other two appeared nonchalant, but one glimpse at his shaking legs told Midorima that he was nervous. The two in front were people he recognized. One of them was a man he had seen in the stack of photos Kagami showed him; the other one was none other than Takao. They both lifted their heads upon his entrance, but only Takao looked away.

Midorima wanted to call out to him, just to make sure he was physically present, but he knew better than to raise his voice. Following Kise and the officer, he slid into a row on the left, the opposite of where Takao sat.

"Stay." That was all the taller man said before disappearing through the doors they came in from.

And still, Midorima pondered. Not only was the officer's appearance familiar, but his child-like voice had an acquainted feel to it. He knew him from somewhere, and not knowing where was bothering him.

But he wasn't allowed much time to dwell over this.

Kise excused himself to the restroom, and when he was gone, Kagami took the seat behind him. "Hey," he greeted. "Nervous?"

"A bit."

"I have the evidence analyzed and the witnesses **—**" He nodded once in the direction Kise walked off to. "**—** present. This should go smoothly as long as you tell the truth **—** the whole truth. Understand?"

"Understood." Midorima turned back to the front.

"Good." Kagami clapped him on the shoulder before getting up and moving over to the ones on the other side of the courtroom.

He didn't want to look, but when Kagami shifted over, his eyes followed. Kagami greeted the two, and while the unnamed one shrugged him off, Takao bobbed his head to indicate that he was listening. From where he sat, Midorima couldn't hear what words were being traded between the three, but the sight of Takao's white knuckles said enough. His entire position was ridged; his shoulders and spine held him in a stiff posture that would eventually cause unfathomable pain to the back. He yearned to tell Takao to take it easy, but how could he advise someone to do something he, himself, was incapable of doing?

Drawing his gaze back to his joined hands, he saw that his knuckles were white as well. When he untangled his fingers, they trembled. That wasn't a good sign. Clutching his knees, Midorima shut his eyes once more and sucked in a deep breath. On his third attempt to restore calmness, Kise returned.

"Isn't that Akashicchi?"

Midorima's attention immediately diverted to his co-worker. "Akashi?"

Kise turned toward the entrance, and Midorima followed his gaze. True to Kise's words, it was Akashi. Even though the other stood far away, Midorima could easily attune to the red hair and imperial aura that he gave off.

"I think he's the judge."

Midorima narrowed his eyes to speculate the clothes Akashi was wearing. After acknowledging the robe, he agreed, "He is."

He met Akashi through college. They were quick to bond over shogi, but after he began delving into medicine, their interactions faded, and the name became a speck in his memory. Seeing him here after that many years came as a shock. Akashi didn't seem like a person who would pursue a degree in law **—** but at the same time, he already had that righteous nature to him.

"The judge's not supposed to know us," Kise muttered as the purple-haired officer came back to escort Akashi to the bench¹.

Midorima wasn't big on law, but he knew enough to know that favoritism could play in if the judge recognized anyone involved with the case. Though he was fairly certain that Akashi wouldn't take sides, there was still a possibility — a possibility that he wasn't going to pester with.

"Don't say anything."

If Akashi did favor him and his testimony, then there was a likelier chance that Takao would walk out of this courtroom free.

"He's on our side," Midorima continued, glancing at Kise out of the corner of his eyes just to make sure the other wasn't going to run his mouth.

When Kise didn't speak up, Midorima devoted his attention to the judge.

Akashi shifted in his seat and glanced around. When his eyes locked with Midorima's, their gazes held. It was that moment that his victory was assured. Akashi had always been a man of truth and rightness, and today was going to revolve around the truth and the right. This case was his — he could finally bring Takao home.

"Close the doors," Akashi ordered, switching his sights from Midorima to a man standing at the entrance. "Court is now in session."

* * *

¹bench: the raised desk where the judge sits


End file.
